


After the End

by KnightofHell_Cami



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Original, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dark, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Original AU, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Slow Build, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, casdean - Freeform, destiel au, very slow build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3179060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightofHell_Cami/pseuds/KnightofHell_Cami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the apocalypse, also known as The Breakdown, humans began to reappear, coming out of their underground shelters. There were few, and they were what we called Normals. The humans that never managed to get to shelter -- they're Freaks. Eye color is key, but 204 years after The Breakdown, that changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"We got a Freak!"

He ran as fast as he could, the group of men running off towards him, guns and knives in hand, shooting aimlessly at the Freak.

But to the Freak, the world was in slow-motion for a moment, and he easily dodged the bullets, still sprinting away from his attackers.

The Normals were right on his tail, but a rock was suddenly jutting out from the ground in front of them, and they were being blocked, yet a few of them managed to get past it before it fully developed.

"Get him!" One of the Normals shouted, to which point the aimed their guns again, shooting, and the Freak, in an effort to dodge them again, missed his footing and was falling to the ground, the Normals catching up to him and putting a gun to his back, holding his wrists behind him.

When they lifted him up, there were what the Normals looked at and instantly turned to each other, muttering something then pushing the Freak along, towards their camp.

They got him tied up in an iron-walled room, looking him over a few times before they were walking out and slamming the door shut,  
leaving the room dark, a silence not even wind dared to break.

But what must have been ten minutes later, the door was being opened again and a man walked in.

"Dammit, man. What made you snap, huh?" He asked, in an almost angry sort of way. But the Freak didn't answer.

"Tell me, son. I know your name; we all do. You were a good kid, a good man, but you're a Freak? You know what we do to Freaks." The man said, looking at the Freak's eyes with a disapproving, yet interested look on his face.

"'Cause of the rules, you have to tell me your name."

The Freak looked up at the man, staring into his eyes for a moment, before he was speaking up.

"Dean."

"My name is Dean Winchester."


	2. Aberdeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These first few chapters will only be Sam and Dean. Other major characters will be introduced within probably two/three chapters. It depends on how many ideas I get before I finish this one. At the moment, we're working with 2250 words, not including these, on this chapter, so.. yeah. :D I hope you like it. (No, this is not Wincest, this is just going somewhat how the actual show goes. As you will be able to see, it gets very similar to the show, and is almost in perfect/ish order. In the teaser chapter before this one, Dean was 26, the same age he was when he went and got Sam at Stanford. Except, maybe, the only major thing is that THE major character is introduced sooner due to storyline. Thank you! Continue reading!)

**March 12, 2203**

_Mommy says I should start writing these notes. She tells me it's important, and makes me do it almost every day. I like writing. Except my dad tells me it's childish. I don't think it is. He wants me to be strong, but I'm only ten. I learned to shoot a gun when I was seven._

_Sammy hasn't learned yet. He wants to read and doesn't like big weapons, but my dad makes him learn. Sammy's six. I'm ten. My mommy is named Mary and my dad is named John. He makes me call him sir sometimes. Only when we're on missions, though. I don't like the missions. I've killed two Freaks already. Dad says it's okay, and that they're bad, bad things, but they're still people, right?_

_I don't know._

_Mommy says I should go now._

_Mommy tells me I should get ready for bed._

_Goodbye, friend. Or.. me? I don't know. Bye anyways._

He set down his pencil and stood from his desk, hopping onto the bed, next to Sam, who was laying next to him, already curled up and asleep.

Dean blew out the candle that was beside the bed, his mother coming over and pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead.

"Goodnight, Dean." She smiled, Dean just shutting his eyes and letting himself fall asleep.

Mary always sat next to Dean's bed to make sure he was asleep before she, too, would fall asleep. And then she would stand up, kiss his forehead again, and whisper, " _angel's are watching over you,"_ and then leave the room. _  
_

With all candles blown out in their home, which was only four rooms, including Sam and Dean's room, the kitchen, their parent's room, and a small eating area. It was the basic house, in this time, except most didn't have an eating room. They were lucky, because their father was the head of the Council, so they got a slight advantage to when new food shipments came in, or news arrived.

But then, this meant that their father was the most dedicated, most stern, most tough. 

They were brought up on fighting.

There was never a time when they didn't.

Life was a roller-coaster, full of twists, and turns, and everything in between, except for suttle movements, or sudden stops, and it was horrid, and morbid, really.

\---

"Sammy, Dad had to go on another mission." Dean sighed, small body lifting off of the torn and tattered couch and walking over to the cabinet. 

"Why does he always have to be gone?"

"You know why, Sammy." Dean pulled out a can of peaches and poured them into a bowl, then moving and sitting back down to his little brother. "Then why isn't mommy here?"

"'Cause she got business, too." 

"What kinda business?"

"A kinda business we don't gotta talk about, okay?" 

Sam's shoulders slouched. "Eat up. You gotta go to school in thirty minutes." Dean ordered, Sam nodding along and eating a few peaches. They got dressed and ready before they were heading out. This was Sam's first year, while it was Dean's fourth year of school, now. 

"Behave, I guess." Dean walked off after that, Sammy knowing what to do.

When they got into class, they both got settled down in their seats, and for a moment, was what the world was like before The Breakdown.

But then they were standing and saluting because the teacher had walked into the room.

"Stay standing. You know the drill." Mr. Campbell said, standing and facing the flag.

It was a striped, horizontal-directed red and white flag, with a black circle in the middle, and on the inside of it, a single, red star, symbolizing the unity of each major refugee camps.

They stayed in their places, a hand against their foreheads in salute, before the intercom was squealing and a man was beginning the pledge.

" _I pledge to honor my responsibilities,_  
do as thy father says,  
do as thy mother says,   
I pledge to respect my fellow citizens,   
to give only disrespect to the Freaks,  
I pledge to participate fully in whatever is asked of me,  
to respect thy teacher,  
to respect thy elders,   
and to never disobey an order."

The words were emotionless, blank, like everything else in this corrupt world.

"At ease." Their hands returned to their sides. "Take your seats. Lessons begin at 8 o'clock sharp. You may talk to your peers."

\---

**June 23, 2208**

_Hello._

_It has been over three years since I have written one of these._

_I am now fifteen, and Sammy is eleven. He's getting very smart._

_My mother died in December of 2206. She starved to death due to a scarcity of food._

_Can I tell you something? Well, I suppose I can, because "you" aren't anyone, except for at least, me, I guess. Anyways.. Sammy told me he was "dirty" a couple of years ago. He hasn't said anything about it since, but I don't like it._

_I have killed what is now 32 Freaks._

_I have become a murderer, and my father still says that it is a good deed, and something that cleanses the world._

_My father is now telling me that I should stop writing these. But, I like it, still. It reminds me of Mary, I guess.. well, now, my father is telling me that I should get off my ass and go to daily training._

_I said alright, only because I have to._

_Goodbye, me._

He blew the candle out then went to bed.

He slept on the couch, now, letting Sam take the whole bed, only because Sam had said he wanted it, and because they had gotten too big to both fit in the same bed.

_\---_

**September 2, 2210**

_I have discovered that I am not who I thought I was. I have hidden it for a few days, now, and I intend on never telling anyone._

_I was in the forest, yesterday, and I grew. A tree. Like, I was just standing there, and I thought of a tree, and it was suddenly there. I -- I think I'm a Freak.. oh God, I have to kill myself. This is bad. I'm not clean, I should be disrespected.._

He shook his head, staring down at the paper, eyes grazing over the letters with uncertainty and a certain sense of anger.

_I have decided just now that I am not going to take my own life. I can control it. No one will know. Right? I suppose. I think that's what Sammy meant when he said he was "dirty". Maybe he is, too? I can't think about that. No, oh God, no, that's not okay._

Being a Freak was like being an animal, except, a rat, really, because no one likes you, and no one wants you, but you're still there, and you always will be.

And people test rats.

Make them do little tricks.

There was no way Dean would ever tell anyone.

This would.. forever.. remain a secret.

\---

**August 13, 2212**

Freak Kill Count: 57

Freak Assist-Kill Count: 71

Language Arts: C+

Social Studies: B-

Mathematics: D+

Physical Education/Training: A+

Science: B-

_I have attached my final school report card to this letter because I felt as though it would be necessary. I am nineteen. This girl, Lisa, she's real nice. But I'm afraid to start anything with her because I feel like someday, she'll find out what I am._

_I'm afraid of myself, sometimes._

_I don't think that's a good thing._

_Anyways, back to the report card, my father tells me that grades are unimportant, aside from my kill count. I have to bite my cheeks when he says that, because I don't like killing them. Though, I've numbed myself. I guess that's the right word?_

_Have you listened to music before?  
_

_My friend tells me it's an amazing thing._

_But my father will just say that it is not, and will kill the brain, and thus, we can't listen to music. Radios, aside from those that are certified, and can only be used for communication, are all banned from homes across each major refugee camp._

_I hope, one day, that I can listen to music._

_I wonder what it's like, though._

_With thoughts of music, I guess I say goodbye, again. I don't think I can make another letter, but I'll try... see you later, whoever "you" are._

\---

**Now, April 17, 2219**

"Dean Winchester, John Winchester's son, a Freak? How the tables have turned." The man across the table breathed out an emotionless chuckle, Dean's face staying blank.

"What are you.. 24? 25?"

"26." Dean intervined, the man nodding.

"You know who I am, Dean. Don't you? Well, of course you should. I was your Fourth Year teacher." Reavealing, now, that this is Samuel Campbell, Dean's grandfather, bald, with hands folded on the steel table.

"Don't you remember that pledge, Dean? Well, 'course you do,  _to give only disrespect to the Freaks."_ He quoted, shrugging. "Rules are rules, Winchester. I'm not aloud to respect you. You have no rights anymore. You are an outcast, a criminal in all places, a  _Freak._ " Samuel stated firmly, Dean biting his cheeks, angry. "How long you been hidin' it, huh?"

Dean didn't speak up.

"Speak up,  _boy."_

Dean's green eyes lifted up to his, ambient room giving no path to see how truly green his eyes were.

"I knew I was a Freak when I was seventeen."

"You've been hiding it for nine years? Impressive." Samuel bobbed his head, rocking in his seat a bit. "So you been killing your own  _kind_ even after you knew you were a Freak? Damn, Winchester. How'd you do it?"

"I numbed myself." 

"Mmm.." 

"What? You think it's funny? I didn't want to."

"Hey now, don't get feisty."

"Asshat."

"Hey!" Samuel exclaimed, suddenly slamming his hands down on the steel table.

"Shut up. You answer only when I ask you a question. You stay. I have to go tell your father about you. He will be immensely disappointed." Samuel stood up, clearly proud of himself, the iron door slamming behind him on his way out.

Dean Winchester was left in darkness once again. 

\---

He was asleep when it happened.

The door was flung open, and Sam was appearing, not Samuel, but Sammy, his brother, wide eyed and staring at him.

"You're a--"

"Yes, now get me out of these fucking chains, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, and Sam was doing as told, walking towards him, taking him out of the chains that had been wrapped around his torso.

"We have to make a run back home. Is dad there?" Dean asked as they made their way out into the hallway, crouched down, no weapons, but just fists if they needed to use them.

"No. He's on another mission."

"Good."

They kept going after that, encountering no one for a few minutes, up until when they left the building and was back outside, gray clouds hovering dimly above them. Now, there were dozens of people outside, walking past them, not suspecting a thing, because they were John Winchester's boys, and had no idea that Dean was a Freak.

"Casual, Sammy. Casual." Dean said, doing so, standing up straight and walking to their house. Once there, it was, as Sam had said, empty, and Dean was almost instantly grabbing a backpack.

"The fuck are you doing?" Sam furrowed his brow, half in question, have in anger.

"I'm a Freak, Sammy. I can't stay here, and neither can you. Someone's gonna come around asking who freed me, and you're gonna be sentenced to banishment, or death, anyways. So c'mon. Get your backpack and put as much stuff into it was you can." 

"Dean, I got Jess, and she's gonna wonder--"

"Sam, you know what she'd say if she found out your brother was a Freak. You know I'm not wrong."

Sam stood there for a moment, not doing anything, because for one, he wasn't wrong. But then, the place he had lived for all twenty-two years of his life was going to be gone much earlier than he wanted, or expected. But, he was right, so he did as told, packing almost every piece of clothing he had and putting extra ammunition in one of the pockets.

Dean wrapped a strap around his thigh that held a knife, putting a gun in the back of his pants, looking to be going on a basic hunt, nothing suspicious. 

Dean may or may not have taken all of his old papers, papers being the ones he wrote to himself, and stuffing them in an old tin box, closing it up and pushing it into his backpack.

When they were both done packing, they walked out the door, backpacks on their backs, sneakily making their way to borders of the camp.

"You ready, Sam?" 

Sam nodded.

Dean stood up straight, taking off his backpack and flinging it over the chain-link fence, then was climbing over it, hopping down on the other side, waiting for Sam.

"C'mon, Sam!" Dean shouted, though, under his breath, because he could see people jogging towards them with guns in their hands. Sam turned around, only to see them, too, and hurried to climb over the fence.

"Run!" 

And they were off, running, sprinting, away from the people that clawed angrily at the fence, as if that would get them back.

A man emerged from behind the group of Normals, shaking his downed head. "You let a Freak get  _away?"_ He stated firmly, the men looking down at their toes, like they were supposed to until spoken directly at to do otherwise.

"Answer me!"

"Yes, sir." They all said in unison.

"John Winchester's son is a Freak, and you let him get away! What do you think he's gonna do now? He could kill all of you if he wanted! Go after them!"

 And so they were, going after them, Dean Winchester becoming the hunted, and no longer the hunter. 

It was strange, because the Normals knew that when you hunt something, that means, usually, that what you are hunting is lesser than you. Or, has major disadvantages. 

The thing is, is that the Normals thought exactly that.

They knew, though, at the same time that these Freaks had major advantages, and not disadvantages, because technically, basically, they were superhuman.

But the idea that they were different, and were dangerous, got to them, just like every lesson on how terrible Freaks were, and this was like a new Holocaust, except drawn out, everyone being told that the Freaks were horrid, and caused the Breakdown, and did all these things that they did not do.

And they believed it.

And they pledged to believe it.

Because nowadays, belief that they were better, and that the Freaks were lesser, was what kept them going.

It was morbid.

But it was how this world works.

This mad, mad world.

 

 

 

 


	3. Reptilia

"Dammit!" John exclaimed, shaking his head.

"He's a Freak?"

"Yes, sir." Samuel nodded, looking at his feet.

"When did you find out?"

"Yesterday, sir."

John sighed, shaking his head again, sitting down in his chair, stress showing through his bagged eyes. They were currently in the main military building, in John's office, polished wooden table in between the two.

"Did you ask how long he has been hiding it?"

"Yes, sir."

"And how long did he say?"

"He said he was seventeen when he knew for sure."

John coughed, bringing a hand up to run through his hair in anger. "May I speak freely, sir?" John nodded. "How is he a Freak, though? You're not a Freak, obviously.." Samuel asked, uncertainty in his tongue. "You're not a.. Freak, right?" "No, no, God, of course not!" John exclaimed, appaled that he had even said that.

"I don't know how he is, Samuel.. I have no idea how my son,  _my son,_ could be such an abomination.."

And that's what he thought he was.

An abomination.

If you found out your child was a Freak, you have to either instanty disown them, or banish them for indecency.

So yes, he thought, easily, immediately, that his son was an abomination.

"And Sam, your other son, he's.. he's only killed twelve Freaks in his whole life."

"What?"

"Sir, he is doing fantastically in every one of his other classes. Gym, training, math, everything. He seems so set on learning, and not killing, that -- that I'm worried about him." Samuel explained, John looking up at him and shaking his head again.

"He's a good kid, John, he's just a softie. We can't have softie's." John nodded, shutting his eyes and sucking in a breath. "I know, I know."

They didn't talk for a minute or so, John staring off into space, thinking about what to do. Eventually, he spoke up. "Did you send your men after him?" He asked. "Yes, sir." Samuel stated. "I expect him back here within a week."

"But, sir, he's a--"

"I know very well what he is. He's still my son."

\---

"Shit!" Sam exclaimed in pain, falling face first on the ground, catching himself with his hands. Dean turned back to look at him, only to see that he had fallen down due to tripping on a large branch that Dean had managed to jump over.

Dean stopped in his tracks, jogging over to him and helping him up. "I think my ankle's broken.." Sam hopped on one foot, Dean putting an arm over his shoulder and helping him along. " _Awesome._." He said, sarcasm the only thing falling off his lips.

"C'mon, man. We're only a few miles from the nearest checkpoint."

He knew his way around the outer area of the camp, but anything past the checkpoint, he had no idea what was out there. But, luckily, he knew there wouldn't be anyone there at the time, and had supplies, too.

"Can't you heal me or some shit?" Sam asked, pleading almost as he trudged along. "Nope. I can't control it. It just sort of  _happens."_ Dean sighed, knowing that possibly, he could heal him, but he wasn't so sure. "You just gotta work through it, Sam. We can rest when we get to the checkpoint, it's not that bad. C'mon."

And so, they kept walking, a major limp in Sam's step.

\---

"Oh, thank God," he breathed out when the checkpoint came into view past all of the vines and trees. "Finally.." Dean muttered, continuing to pull his brother along.

They pushed through the steel door, heading into the rectangular building and falling onto one of the small, infirmary beds.

"Put your leg out." Dean said, Sam looking at him, knowing exactly what he was going to do.

"You're not--"

"I learned this in high school, you'll be  _fine._ " He put both hands on Sam's foot. "You might want to bite something.. uhh.." He looked around for something, eventually just taking off his bookbag and pulling out an apple.

"Bite onto that."

Sam took the apple and dug his teeth into it, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation of the pain soon to come.

"I'm gonna do it on three."

"One..!" He twisted it, his bone going back into it's rightful place, Sam screaming out into the apple. "What the fuck happened to two and three?!" He shouted in anger after placing the apple into his hand.

Dean shrugged, making a  _well, it worked, didn't it?_ face at him, sitting back in his chair.

"Rest up. We gotta leave tomorrow morning."

Sam sighed and fell back onto the bed, the day that had just finished having been full of miles upon miles of walking. Dean didn't rest, though. He just walked over to a desk and grabbed a pencil, taking out his notebook.

**April 17, 2219**

_The days, I can already tell, are getting longer. It's just me and Sammy now. I think I always knew that this would happen, one way or another. I couldn't hide it forever, right?_

_I hope that they don't find us. Well, obviously I hope that, but I mean.. we have to find permanent shelter somewhere. Living as one of.. them.. in this world means that I have no rights, no responsibilites, no purpose, but to be hunted._

_I have nothing else to say for today. Goodbye, me, friend, whoever you are._

He set his pencil down, leaning back in his chair, sighing to himself, thinking abck to all the times his father said he should stop. He did, for many years, because he had to be his father's weapon again, his father's blunt little instrument.

\---

**April 24, 2219**

Mosquitos and flies buzzed around the two, the day humid, air thick, damp, seeming to suffocate them, or, trying to, but never succeeding.

Neither of them talked.

They were both sweating like maniacs, clothes sticking to their bodies, forest silent, unmoving, merciless around them.

The next camp was in St. Louis.

Almost every other direction was abandoned, cities empty, or, at least, that's what they knew from the news. They headed towards Missouri, the next checkpoint at the border of what used to be Kansas. Now, it was all provinces, or abandoned, or, nothing, really.

Of course, there are camps in the Western states, but Western states were the ones that had the worst Summers and Winters

Missouri had the St. Louis Province, which was almost one of the most important one, aside from the provinces in Washington, New York, Texas, Florida, and California, only because they were all the major states before The Breakdown and were in each corner of the United States. Aside from Texas.

Texas was being Texas, as always.

Missouri controled the Midwest, Florida controlling the Southeast, New York with the Northeast, Washington over the Northwest, and California with the Southwest. It was easy, simple, aside from the current feud with Missouri and Texas.

Texas wanted the Midwest, and everyone knows that Texas is the most dedicated, most determined, state. Yes, state. Texas stayed a state, while the others became provinces, just because they made a deal with Washington and California concerning certain rights and laws a few years after The Breakdown.

They are officially out of water.

"Sammy.." Dean croaked, feeling the dirt beneath his shoes get damp, thicker, sinking under his feet.

Sam turned to look at Dean, weakly continuing to trudge forward.

"Sammy, look.."

A small river appeared through grass, trees, and vines, Dean's steps picking up, falling to his knees on the rocks that were before the water. He ducked his face down, letting it fall into the cold river. It was clean, no pollution, nothing but pure, fresh, water. Though, they'd still have to boil it.

Sam fell to his knees, too, the sunburn that pecked at his face cooling under the cold water.

\---

"Where are we?" Sam asked, taking the canteen that he had and filled it up. Dean sat on the rocks, looking around. "We gotta be getting close to Missouri, right?" Sam continued, Dean nodding. "We'll know it when we see it, Sammy. But we still have to go all the way across state to get to St. Louis." Dean sighed, brushing his hand over his face, Sam standing and going past the rocks and onto the grass, into the forest to collect twigs and sticks.

He came back ten minutes later with enough to start a fire.

Dean made a contraption that would suspend the canteen over the fire, allowing it to boil before they drank it.

While he made it, Sam got the fire going, crackling before them, his brother finishing the contraption after another few minutes.

"How'd you do that?"

"Shop Class pays off, Sammy!" Dean said proudly, the water beginning to boil.

Once it was done and had cooled down, he let Sam take a sip, shoulders dropping, whole body going lax. "Gimme some, man." Dean snatched the canteen out of his hand and drank some, setting it back down on the grass, pulling his backpack up and resting his head on it.

"I'll take first watch." Sam said, Dean nodding, draping his leather jacket over his lower half, letting his eyes close.

\---

" _Dean!"_ Sam whispered, Dean shifting awake. "What?" He asked, a pout in his expressions. "I hear movement. A lot of it." Sam whispered again, and Dean was jolting upright, the fire having been blown out, Sam seeming to already be ready to move. "C'mon." Sam urged, Dean nodding and standing, throwing his backpack over his shoulders.

They ran off in hopes that whatever that movement was was wolves, and not their attackers.

\---

"Stop! I heard something!" One of the men whispered, hearing the shifting of leaves and breaking of branches.

"What is it now, man?" One of the others asked, the man that told them to stop moving forward, continuing to hear it. "They're close."

The men ran off, towards the noise.

They found a formation of sticks, clearly used to make a fire. One of them touched a finger to a twig, and it was still warm. "They were here. They're on the move." The men nodded and conitnued on.

\---

"Farmland, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, coming out of the forest to a huge, massive cornfield. They kept running, the sound of corn being crunched and run through shooting through the air.

And then there was a gunshot.

They both ducked, keeping their running speed at a consistent pace.

"They found us!" Dean exclaimed, and there was no way they could get out of this field alive without a miracle.

Deab was suddenly stopping in his tracks, Sam's eyes going wide at him. "What the hell are you doing? Come on!"

But Dean just stood there, letting his eyes close, doing nothing, steadying his breathing.

And then he was opening his eyes, and their followers were so close, now, still unseen to their eyes, and Dean wasn't even moving, the gunshots firing loud and angry in their ears.

And suddenly, the ground was shaking, and the dozen of men that were on their tracks were confused as to what was happening.

The ground was breaking apart, splitting, men falling into it, and it seemed to go all the way down to lava, wind blowing through their hair, each man screaming as they fell to their death.

Sam stared in awe, the wind that had been pushing through their hair suddenly stopping, and Dean was falling back, eyes crawling into the back of his head.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, the ground closing up, Sam running towards him, lightly slapping the side of his face to try to wake him up, going to no prevail. "Dean!" He exclaimed again, and Dean was just lying there, passed out, unconscious. Sam looked up and around, just to make sure if anyone survived what just happened, looking back down at Dean when he was certain the attackers were all dead.

\---

Dean didn't wake for another twelve hours.

"What the hell happened..?" He drawled, Sam shifting towards him to see that he was awake. "You did something crazy and killed all of them, Dean.." Sam sighed, "it was for the good." he finished. Dean nodded, smacking his lips. "Get me some water." He said firmly, only because he was parched and couldn't get it himself.

Sam handed him the canteen, Dean taking four big gulps before setting it back down. He looked around, only to realize that they were still in the middle of a cornfield, the area around them either completely torn apart or neatly fallen down. "Did you scout the area?" Sam nodded. "Are we close to Missouri?" Dean continued, Sam lifting his head to answer. "We should reach Missouri by tomorrow, but the St. Louis Province is another three hundred-somethin' miles out."

Dean's shoulders dropped.

"Awesome.."

Three hundred miles would take forever, and with Dean still exhausted, they'd have to rest for another day or so.

\---

**April 29, 2219**

It had taken a day for Dean to regain his strength, and now, four days after, they were on the move, getting about 20 miles on a good day, 10 or 15 on a bad one.

Today was an amazing day.

They came out of a forest that they'd been trekking through for the past day, only to see a large field of wheat, and in the middle of it, a house. Off to the side of the house were horse stables, which Dean turned to Sam and grinned at.

Looks like they'd be getting a ride.

Though, they had run out of water a few hours ago and had no food left, so they decided to put on a their acting faces and walked down to the house. Upon arrival, they had already gotten there "homeless and helpless" look going on, which would definitely help.

Dean knocked on the door, a woman appearing a moment later.

"Who're you?" She asked, Dean lifting his eyes to meet the woman's. "I'm Jimmy, and this is my brother--" "Josh!" Sam said quickly. "Miss, we been on the road for a while, and we ran out of food and water. D'ya think you could help us out?" Sam asked in a soft, pleading voice, Dean making a face next to him that said, "we look like lost puppies and your help would mean the world".

The lady paused, and then was biting her lip and nodding. "Sure. C'mon in." She welcomed them, Sam and Dean piling through the door and sitting themselves down on the couch. "Lemme fetch you boys some water." She smiled softly, walking into the kitchen and turning on the sink, filling two cups with cold water then walking my back to the brothers. She sat down in a chair in front of them.

"What brings you boys to the middle of Missouri?" She asked, Dean having already chugged all of his water. Sam had only taken a single, big gulp. "Our camp in Kansas got raided." Sam explained, smiling softly. "Yeah.." Dean acted like he was a lost puppy, again, which really sealed the deal.

"Well, my name is Pamela. This is my farm, clearly. Do you want me to fix something up? You two look like you haven't eaten anything in days." Without getting an answer, she was standing, going back into the kitchen and starting to cook. Dean turned to Sam and gave a cheeky grin. "Dean, what are we doing?"

"We're gonna stay here overnight, get some more food and water, and then be on our way. Don't worry, Sammy, I got a plan." Sam shook his head, clearly disapproving of whatever Dean's "plan" was.

Pamela reappeared with two sandwiches, handing one to Josh and one to Jimmy. "Miss, d'ya think you could do us a solid and let us stay here overnight? You won't be able to tell we're here." Sam said after eating half of his sandwich. Pamela contemplated whether or not she should let what seemed like to incredibly nice boys to stay overnight, eventually smiling and shrugging. "What the hell. But y'all gotta be gone before midday, ya hear?"

The brothers nodded, Dean setting the plate that had what used to be his sandwich down on the coffee table.

"I have two extra bedrooms. One is upstairs directly to the right, then the other a little further down the hall to the left." She explained, a warm smile on her face. "Thanks, Miss." Dean smiled. "Please, call me Pamela."

They talked for a while until the sun went down, and Pamela was making dinner, making sure there were leftovers for the boys to take when their journey continued the next morning. They finished dinner around eight PM, Pamela telling the brothers to rest up around nine. She knew they had a long ways to go, considering they had told her that they were going all the way to the St. Louis Province during dinner.

Sam and Dean walked up the stairs, parting ways when Dean snagged the first room (the one on the right), Sam going further down the hall.

\---

Dean was the first awake, giving himself a shower before Sam awoke.

He stood under the warm water, barely moving, really, but thinking all too much. He ran his fingers through his hair, and before he knew it, he was standing out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his lower half. He saw Sam open the door to his room as he walked back across the hall to his own room. "Take a shower, Sammy. You reek." Dean said as he passed up his brother, giving a little grin. Sam shook his head, walking into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Dean got dressed in the meantime, throwing his necklace around his neck after putting on clean clothes. Pamela had insisted on washing the clothes they'd been wearing the day before, too, which she had set out on their beds probably while they were asleep. (He had worn a plain white tank top and jeans, something he rarely ever did, but that day, it was terribly hot.)

Around nine AM, Sam and Dean were ready to go, the sound of boots on hardwood floors bumping as they collected water into their canteens from the sink and made a few more sandwiches, getting the leftovers from last night and stuffing them in a bag Dean had found in the linen closet.

"Follow me." Dean said as he walked out the door, guiding Sam to the stables that they had seen the day before.

"Dean, she was so nice, we're not gonna steal her--"

"Sammy, it doesn't matter. We have to do what we need to do to survive. There's no way we can make it to St. Louis on foot without running out of food again. Now saddle up and get onto whatever horse you like. I call the black one." He threw the saddle over the one he had chosen, which was one of five, Sam taking one that was spotted brown, and mostly white.

They flipped themselves onto the saddles, Dean taking the lead after yelling a "h'ya!" and they were off, going much faster than they would have from walking.

\---

**June 1, 2219**

"We made it, Sammy!" Dean grinned proudly as the gates to the province opened up, letting the brothers into the massive marketplace. The streets were crowded with people, all trying to get somewhere or to buy something. They made way through the middle of the street, people making way for the horses to get through.

"Do -- do we have any Units?" Sam asked, Units being the America-wide currency, which were coins that had a small circle in the middle so that you could put them onto a string, or something of that sort. They all had stars branded into them, the size and materal of the coin being the way you determine how much it's worth.

"Shit.." Dean sighed, shaking his head. "We have fifty, but that won't get us anywhere. Let's just -- find a bar and play for some money."

They arrived at a saloon soon after, tying their horses to a post that stood outside of the building before they were walking in to what was called  _Singer's Saloon and Hotel._  "Can I get you anything?" Asked a lady from behind the bar who had previously been washing off the counter.

"Nah, we're good." Sam said with a soft smile, the lady nodding. "Name's Ellen if ya need anythin'." She smiled, Dean having already sat himself down in front of a man and was already gambling. He had set down twenty-five of their fifty Units, cards in hand, Sam standing behind him and coaching him through.

They ended up winning another twenty-five Units, bringing them up to seventy-five, which Dean had gone all in because the man in front of him said that it wasn't fair, and wanted to play again.

Dean won again, with the help of Sam, now with the total of 150 Units. "Thanks, buddy, but I don't think you wanna keep goin'." Dean grinned proudly, standing and walking over the bar. A younger lady, much younger than Ellen, probably fourteen or fifteen, was now standing at the counter, talking to a guy with a mullet.

"Yes?" She asked, noticing that Dean had been eyeing her a bit, probably just wanting a drink. Which he did. "Nothin', sweets. Just wanted a drink." Dean grinned, Sam shaking his head. "She's half your age, Dean." Sam insisted, Dean nodding. "I know, I just want a drink. Is that too much to ask?" Dean said with a cheeky grin, Sam shrugging, sitting himself down on one of the wooden bar stools.

The girl came back with a beer, setting it down on the counter with a loud  _clunk._ "So. Who are you? Never seen you around before." The girl said, Dean setting his beer down to answer. "I'm--" Dean started, and Sam, wanting to be slightly more innocent than before, now that they were in the province, continued for him. "Dean. I'm Sam." He smiled, the grin, though, quickly fading.

Dean glared at Sam with an angry look, but was mentally shrugging and turning back to look at the girl across the counter. "Y'seem a little young to be working a bar. What's your name?"

"Jo." She replied, crossing her arms on the counter and leaning over it. "Jo SInger." She continued, Dean nodding, leaning back in his seat. "I'm fifteen, mind you." She retorted, Dean cocking a brow. "Oh?" He teased, Sam shaking his head next to him. "Well, Jo, do you have a couple rooms open for me and my brother?"

"Oh, God! I thought you two were gay! You're brothers.. thank God.." Jo laughed to herself, Dean's jaw and gaze sharpening. " _Do you?"_ He pressed, angry. "Sure thing. C'mon." She said after wiping the tears from her eyes, guiding the boys upstairs and to their seperate rooms.

"Jo, what're you doin'?" Boomed a man's voice from down the hall. "I was helping the customers!" She shouted back, a bearded man appearing from one of the rooms. "You know your mother doesn't like it when you do. They're most likely bad people and--" He paused, seeing who the two boys were.

"Dean? Sam?"

\---

The man shut the door behind him, locking it, too.

"What are you boys doing here?!" He exclaimed under his breath, making sure no one heard.

"Who're you?" The brothers asked in unison, confused as to why the man had locked them in. "Bobby Singer. Don't you remember me?" The boys made "what the fuck" faces and shook their heads. "Man must've brainwashed you.." Bobby sighed. "Our father?" Dean asked, unsure of who Bobby was implying exactly.

"John Winchester. You two are Sam and Dean Winchester, and your mom is named Mary. How is she?" Bobby asked with a blank, yet somehow welcoming face.

"She's dead." Dean stated flatly.

"Oh.." Bobby muttered, a sigh escaping his lips. "She was a great woman. I'm real sorry." Dean nodded, Sam ducking his head down, fiddling with his thumbs from where he sat on the bed. "How do you know us?" Dean spoke up, Bobby pulling up a chair and sitting. "I was good friends with your dad. I used to babysit you boys when you were young. Don't you remember me?"

They shook their heads again.

Bobby sighed, again, defeated this time. "Well, Sam, Dean, feel free to come here any time. You don't gotta pay, but you will have to pay for food, y'hear?" Bobby asked, the boys agreeing with a nod. Bobby left the room after that, Sam following behind him to his room. When Dean was left alone, he stared blankly around the room, sucking in his lip.

"Shit." He cursed.

"What have I gotten myself into?"


	4. Yes Yes

Dean awoke with a start, confused at where he was at first, but then he realized that he was still in the saloon. Sighing in relief, he flipped the covers off of himself and stood, stretching out his arms and legs like a cat. After yawning and regaining his balance, he stumbled off downstairs, rubbing his eyes as his feet went from wooden step to wooden step.

"What time is it?" Dean asked Ellen, the lady at the counter. "Ten thirty-two." She stated, tired as well. "Why'd you let me sleep so late?" He sat down on a bar stool, elbows on the counter, pressing his face into his hands. "'Cause y'didn't tell me to wake you up." She explained, voice a bit snarky, but other than that, she sounded almost drained. "Good point." He started, a sigh escaping parted lips. "Water?" "Sure thing, hon."

Ellen walked into the backroom, coming back a few moments later with a glass of cold water. "Thanks." Ellen nodded in reply. "Is Sam up yet?" Dean asked after gulping down three fourths of his water, Ellen shaking her head. "Good. He needed the rest."

Ellen looked at Dean with uncertainty, trying to rack her brain for why he would be here. She didn't know all too much about the Winchesters, well, the brothers at least, but knew enough to know that they were trouble. With several thuds, Bobby was coming down the stairs, seeing that Dean was already sitting at the bar stool and sighing. "Damn, I was hopin' you weren't gonna be up." He joked, making Dean chuckle before he brought his glass back to his lips for another sip.

"El, can you give us a minute?" Bobby asked, Ellen returning to the backroom, shutting the door behind her.

Bobby turned towards Dean, resting his hands on the bar counter, staring at the green-eyed man for a moment before he was leaning off of the counter. "Why are you here? Really?" He asked. There wasn't much of an explanation that Bobby could come up with as to why they were so far from the Kansas Province and now in the Missouri Province. Maybe he'd been hunting, but still, he wouldn't have gone so far out.

"I don't even know you, Bobby, but I kinda feel like I do, so I'm going to ask you to be open-minded, okay?" Dean asked, Bobby nodding. "I'm a uh -- a Freak." He confessed, Bobby's eyes widening. How was he a Freak? There was no way... But he was, so the confession stuck to the humid air like honey, except bitter, far from sweet. "A Freak?" Bobby asked, seeming to be taking it too well to be true. "A Freak." Dean said for confirmation.

"Prove it." Bobby stated sharply, Dean sighing and shaking his head. "No can do, Bobby. I can't control it." He looked overly defeated. "Then how am I supposed to know if you're lyin' or not, Dean?" Bobby sighed, unsure of himself and the man in front of him. "Because no one wants to be a Freak, so then no one will want to lie about bein' one. You know the rules. The  _law._ Anyone that is sure to be a Freak must be taken hostage and put to test, and if proven to be a Freak, they're either hung publicly or shot. 'Course, people kill Freaks without thinking about that, but still. No one  _wants_ to be a Freak, Bobby."

He was right, though, making Bobby push his hands off the counter and pace behind the bar. "I believe you, son." Bobby sighed, but for some reason, he wasn't moving towards the shotgun that was hidden beneath the counter. "So it just kinda.. happens?" Bobby asked, Dean nodding. "Can't control it. Just like I said."

"Hm." Bobby had been on all too many hunts for Freaks to know that that wasn't true. He had seen all too many shocks of electricity through friend's hearts when a Freak touched them, all too many eruptions of stone when a Freak ran from a Normal. Of course, Dean had done something of that sort when he'd been running from those men. It was out of the adrenaline and the pure danger of the situation that forced the powers out of his hands and his mind.

"Well, I--" Bobby paused, seeing Sam stomping down the stairs and adjusting his posture. "Heya, Sammy." Dean grinned, spinning around in his bar stool and giving a toothy grin. Sam just nodded and rubbed his eyes, sitting two seats away from Dean and sighing. Ellen brought him a water then was walking upstairs to wake up Jo.

"I think you two should get jobs somewhere. Blend in as much as you can." Bobby suggested, Dean nodding then tilting his head to the side. "Where? I mean, I haven't been seein' any 'Help Wanted' signs."

"Dean, we've been here for a day. 'Course you haven't." Sam said, sassier. "Damn, Sammy. What's up your ass?" Sam didn't reply, only took a sip of his water. "I'm gonna make you two some food." Bobby said, then was disappearing into the back room.

\---

"He  _what?_ " Exclaimed John who was utterly confused and angry at the whole situation. "He.. killed all of our men, sir." Samuel explained, John shaking his head. "How?" "Don't know, sir."

"Well then find the fuck out!" He was angrier than he'd ever been, probably. For one, his son was a Freak, and two, he had run away, for God Sake's. "Yes, sir." Samuel said then was hurrying out of the room, storming down the hallway to find anyone that could help track down the Winchester brothers.

"You," he pointed at the man at the desk, "print wanted posters for the Winchester brothers. Get an artist to draw their faces or some shit, I don't know, just do it. We're going full hunt on these sons of bitches."

And full hunt it was.

\---

"A mechanic, Dean? Doing what, fixing the cars that no one has?" Sam asked, shaking his head as he circled jobs in a newspaper he might be interested in.

"Well, no. Lot 'a people still have cars, you just haven't seen 'em yet. And it's not all cars, it's other stuff, too. Like, pipes and shit." He shrugged before continuing, "Sammy, it'll get us through whatever we're doing here." And with that. Sam finally nodded. "Fine. Just don't piss off your boss like you did the last time you took a job." Sam laughed to himself, Dean scoffing at him in embarrassment.

"I'll try." Dean said with a bit of a grin, leaning over Sam's shoulder to see what he was circling. "Stable boy, librarian, restaurant worker? You have to narrow things down." Dean moved and sat across from him. "Which one would give you the least pay?"

"Stable boy." Of course.

"Then 'x' it out." He stated simply. They were looking for a temporary living, not something that could barely get them by.  
So they continued to do that until Sam found his job, that being a waiter at some pub a few blocks away.

\---

**July 4, 2219**

"Nothing? You're telling me you have nothing new about my boys?" They had been on red-alert for the past month now, but still, had nothing. Of course, it was because Sam and Dean had continued to use fake names and gotten new jobs. They blended right in with the normal.

"Sir, we've been doing our best-"

"Well if you're best is finding nothing and no one, then do better than your best!" He was just angry all of the time now, and the stress had brought grey into his black hair. "Sir, that's impossible-" "Dammit, I don't give a fuck about what's impossible! I give a fuck about my boys, Freaks or not. So find them, or find something that'll lead us to them. It's been too long, Samuel. Too long."

He sighed, removing his hands from the steel table that he had slammed them down onto to run them through his hair. Samuel have a salute before leaving the room, shutting the door behind them. This had been going on for much too long.

It needed to be put to an end.

\---

_Sammy says today used to be the old America's Independence Day. Says I must have learned that in school before, but Hell if I remember. All I know is that Sam got a job and I did, too, and it's getting us by. Bobby & Ellen.. they're nice. They're helping a lot with, well, everything. Especially Bobby. He gets us through a lot. I don't expect to me writing much for a while, but I'll try. I don't know. We'll have to see how busy I get. For now, I guess I'll end by saying uhhhhhhhhh.. you know what? We're doing really good. I like it here a lot. But as I know, it's temporary.. of course. Everything always is, it seems._

_Wouldn't it be cool if one day, I got a computer to write all of these onto? It'd take forever, but I don't know. I haven't seen a computer since the day John took me to work and showed me the computer room. I know all of the rich people have them, but obviously, I'm not of the "rich people society". I THOUGHT I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ENDING THIS. Damn myself. Sammy's calling anyways. Bye, me. Until then, I guess._

_\---_

**July 15, 2219**

"Sir, I think we got 'em." Samuel said, erupting into John's room unexpectedly. "What?" 

"Yes, I know, it sounds crazy, but we just got news about a case in Missouri that happened a little while back. Said a lady named Pamela Barnes had harbored two boys, one very tall, shaggy haired, and the other also tall, but not nearly, green eyes, and had hair that was, and I quote,  _on point._ " He sighed at the end. "That's them.. Samuel, that's my boys." 

"Yes, I know, but we don't know where they went. They could be..anywhere. She said they stole her horses, too. So, I mean.." He slapped his hands against his sides. In the meantime, John was racking his brain for where, possibly, they could be when it clicked. "I know where they are. Get the Jeeps ready, I know where they are." He was certain now, even though he knew that he done his best in the past to prevent it. But he knew  _exactly_ where his sons were.

"Okay, okay!"

"Get a dozen to come with. We leave tomorrow at dawn."

Sam nodded, giving a salute before leaving the room. Tomorrow would be a good day.

\---

**2:46, July 16, 2219**

_Target located, over._

"Alright, boys. You stay here. I'm walking in alone. They're my kids." 

"But John, you know Dean's a--"

"Do I look like a give a single shit? No! I don't! So you better get the fuck back into your Jeep, and let me handle this." John was angry. Very, very angry. He didn't want to deal with  _anyone's_  shit right now, save what he was about to face inside of the saloon in front of him.

"I fucking hate St. Louis." He said with a shake of his head before sticking a gun into the back of his pants and walking naturally into the saloon.

Ellen looked up from where she was at the counter. "John? What're you--" "Where are my boys?" He said, anxious. "What are you talking about? I've never even met your boys." She lied. "You're lying. They're somewhere in here. You know Dean's a Freak, right? You know you're harboring a criminal of the nation, right?" He was  _this_ close to pressing Ellen's face against the counter and making her say it, but clearly, he wasn't going to.

_Yet._

"You know what, I'm going to say this one more time. I'm very angry. My son has been lying about his true identity with me for the past  _nine_ years, and I really love to have a little chat with him. Okay? So I need you to tell me where my oldest son is right now, or you'll-"

He could hear feet climbing down wooden stairs and that was him, the exact person he had been looking for.

"Hey, El, I was just heading out to go to--  _Dad?"_

"Dean, I've been looking for you." John narrowed his eyes angrily at his son, staring at him from across the room. "What are you, uh -- doing here?" Dean was nervous, sweating, even. How could he have found him? They had taken all of the precautions and-- "Your friend Pamela ratted you out. Think you could just get away with stealing horses? No. You can't. So you're going to go get into one of the Jeeps that's outside, and if you don't, then I'm gonna get very angry. Because we know what you are, and now, I'm gonna try to be nice, okay? So go get into the Jeep and everything is going to be fine." He wasn't lying. 

"No." Dean liked it here. He wasn't going to let his father get in the way of what he started here. He knew the people, the area, that girl with the large breasts at the bar downtown that he-- he just  _really_ likes it here.  _  
_

" _Dean."_  

Dean teetered on his heels, rethinking it. But if he went with his dad then he'd be able to be free of his criminal status. If he didn't, well, life would become very dangerous and restricting. 

"Give me ten minutes." Dean finally said after what must have been a minute of thought. He had been raised by his father; there's no way that the thing in his brain that automatically had him saying  _fine_ to his dad would suddenly stop working. So he stomped himself back up to to his room, made sure he grabbed everything, and then left a note for his brother to see.

_Heya, Sammy. I won't be gone for too long_

Obviously a lie. _  
_

_I felt like this note might give you some assurance as for where I went. Don't come looking for me. Do not. Come looking for me. If you do, I'll put a bullet in your leg when you get here. How about you go talk to that pretty girl named Jess that you told Jo about a couple days ago. She seemed awful nice. Make a life here. Learn new things. Listen to music, I don't know. Just live a life that you want to live, not the life of a boot camp. I'll see you again some time, but now? Now isn't that time. I hope you understand that I just don't want to burden you with the restrictions that come with the lifestyle I was born into._

_Sorry for getting poetic there._

_I felt that it was important._

_But yeah. Sam, don't be stupid. Don't come looking for me. Talk to Jess. Eat epic burgers._

_P.S. USE A CONDOM!!!!!_

_From your big brother,  
Dean_


	5. None & All

A/N: Remember, Sam's "name" in this is Josh. So that's why Jess calls him that.

A man walked out onto his balcony, placing his hands on the rail. He was somewhere, doing something, of course, but he was doing something different. Something more different than anyone else has done on this planet before.

"You have all of them located? You know where they are, when to find them, and when to take them?" He asked, anxious. He had something to put to end.

This was a plan years in the making and now it was finally coming to life. "Yes, of course." They replied, the man giving a soft chuckle at his victory. At last, he was going to win. He would get it all - everything - with what he was going to do.

"Get the car ready. We're going to St. Louis."

\--

"Alright, Dean. You aren't going to leave this house. Ever. You're still technically a criminal, but in my eyes, you're my son. Not everyone here is nearly as lenient as I, so you better follow the rules around here." John paced the room, unsure of his choices. He loved his children, of course, but he didn't know if he could just simply harbor a Freak, of all people, in his house. But it's his son and-

"Okay, okay, I get it. Just go do whatever-the-hell you need to do. I'll be here, obviously."

Dean was sat on his old bed, also unsure of his father's actions, which was definitely something he wasn't used to feeling. He watched John pace the room before he was stroking his scruff then leaving the house.

Groaning, Dean fell backwards onto his bed, tired from the previous day of non-stop driving. He looked around, at his backpack, at the photo in a frame that showed the whole family, and then back to his backpack. He could escape, easily, of-fucking-course. He wasn't stupid. Just - his dad said he couldn't, so he stayed.

But then again, he was a criminal, he should go, him and his father knew this breaking every law on Freaks there were, but they were..family. And family is weakness,

and family is strength.

\--

"So, Josh," Jess said with a smile, looking at the tall, shaggy-haired boy that was cleaning off the counter of Singer's Saloon and Hotel with a smile. "How are you?" She asked. "I'm good, I guess," he replied, a mutter, something between happy and sad that Jess rolled with. "How you holdin' up?" She asked, placing her hands on the counter. "Jess, I'm fine. Let's just.. not talk about it, okay?" He asked, Jess nodding, leaning off the counter.

"You want a drink?" Sam asked, giving a smile (something that surprised Jessica), Jess also smiling and nodding. Sam reached under the counter and grabbed two cups, as well as some whiskey. "It's on me, don't worry." Sam said as he poured the alcohol. Jess sat down on a bar stool, taking one of the cups into her hand and having a sip.

"What's it like?" Sam asked, taking a sip as well. Jess narrowed her eyes.

"What's what like?"

"Bein' so pretty."

Smooth.

That was good, Sam. Good! Just, now you have to, ugh-

"Oh!" Jess exclaimed, huffing out a little giggle, blushing as red as a strawberry. "Then I suppose I have the luxury of asking you, too. What's it like being such a dork?" And then they both laughed, giggling until they were piles of heavy breaths, glasses of whiskey lingering loosely against their lips.

\--

July 22, 2219

Can't you feel it?

Can't you hear it?

I can't possibly be the only-

Dean jolted upright, sweating and panting. In his dream he didn't see anyone, but he heard someone. It had to be a voice he had never heard before because it sounded far from familiar.

Within minutes, Dean had a white tank-top on and some tattered jeans, but they seemed to do the trick. Besides, he rarely ever had any new clothes, so this was the best he could do. At least he wasn't naked.

"Ugh," he groaned, looking over to check the time, only to realize that he had slept past 12:32 PM. He should really set an alarm, but sadly, he's not the best at that sort of thing. "Coffee. That's what I need," he said softly to himself, walking across the room to start a brew.

Nowadays, it was terribly quiet. Often, his father was out on hunts and was never home, which was good and bad because one, he had the house to himself and two, there was a silence he could never itch. But then he was shaken out of his thoughts when he heard the coffee brewer begin to let out little coughs as it began its process and he was beaten out of the painful silence, leaving him standing in the middle of the room, staring down at his feet.

I heard it, too.

"What the fuck?!" Dean exclaimed, jumping back, snapping out of it. It was the same voice from his dream, except now, it wasn't a dream, and he could hear it, right inside of his head. Obviously it wasn't his voice, or his own thoughts, because if so, he wouldn't be nearly as freaked out. "Don't tell me I'm going crazy.." Dean sighed, and then the coffee machine was letting out its last final cough and then

Ding.

Done.

Coffee. Just what he needed.

He stirred in whatever sugar and milk he wanted and then went and sat on the couch, filling his head with everything except that damn voice.

Eventually, after trying to think of something other than the voice in his head, he gave up, annoyed. Right now, it was the only thing he could think about.

He sighed.

If it was going to be like this forever, then he might as well be sleeping forever, because this was increasingly boring.

So every now and then, his father would come it, slap an empty beer bottle over his head and then collapse onto his bed. Or, he'd slap him across the face for being a Freak and not telling him. Same old-same old.

And his routine never changed.

He woke up, made a cup of coffee, and stared at a wall, thinking. About anything.

"You wanna be a man? You wanna stand your ground? Well he hit you! He punched you! He's right there, on the ground. Kick 'im, Dean. Kick 'im."

Dean kicked him.

"Keep kicking him!"

He kicked him again, and again.

"Keep kicking him!"

"Keep kicking him!"

"Kick him! Kick him! Kick him!"

And again, and again, and again, and again, and aga-

He snapped out of it then.

His father always told him to be strong.

And apparently, learning to beat a man to death at the age of twelve was the way to go.

\---

Dean made his coffee and then sat down on the couch, again, staring at the wall, thinking of the man he wanted to be. An amazing man. A man to make a difference.

Gonna have a model on my arm and the world to look at. A world to rule. I don't want to do it the way most people would. I'd give Freaks freedom and give homeless people homes. There won't be anyone that doesn't have any food, or homophobia, or racism. I'm gonna make the world better and give everyone a reason to live. I'd never do things the way the normal people did them. I wasn't normal, anyways. I'm a Freak and I deserved-

The door was being blown off its hinges and Dean was standing, getting ready to fight, but men dressed in black S.W.A.T uniforms were hauling him out by his elbows. "Stop!" He could hear his father yelling in the distance, but it didn't help. The only thing he could do was kick the men, but they kind of had guns and bulletproof vests. He considered using his powers, but he knew that odds are, he wouldn't be able to do anything. And, odds are, if he did, he'd be shot on spot.

It was all so terribly sudden, you know, being pushed into the back of a truck full of other men and women, old and young. He could only assume they were all like him. All Freaks. He probably should have fought back, but he knew it would happen one way or another.

Dean looked over to the boy that was next to him, and he seemed like he was 18 or 19. "Where are they taking us?" Dean asked, and the boy shrugged, but still, he somewhat knew. "Do you want the short answer or the long answer?" The boy asked, turning to look at him. Dean's posture straightened. "I want the truth." Was all he said.

"Hell. We're goin' to Hell."

The truck never saw Lawrence, Kansas ever again. And nor would Dean Winchester, he thought.

A/N: This was definitely rushed and a very shit chapter, but now it's actually kind of interesting and fun to write. That's just what I've been struggling with, because it's kind of at a boring and slow pace. But every story does at one point ^.^


	6. Malleable Beings

Dean never thought farmland would be so beautiful sometimes.

Well, right now, in the moment where he was being driven to the largest Freak concentration camp in the country, that was the only thought on his mind.

The wheat swayed delicately, moving softly in the cool wind, and the single tree in the distance stood lonesome in the orange horizon. He looked away from the nature and turned to see the other dozen people in the truck, who were all silent, big and small, men and women. No one seemed to want to speak.

After all, they were all thinking the same thing.

They were going to die soon.

Dean, on the opposing hand, was closing his eyes and laying his head back. He remembered vanilla ice cream over warm pecan pie from years ago on Thanksgiving, Mary smiling brightly at one end of the table. He remembered Sammy, giggling as he ran away from Dean with a football held in his hands. The sweet crackling of The Beatles on the record player when his mother smiled and said, as soft as a dancing flame, "just listen, baby. Listen."

Dean's whole world fell imperfectly together.

\---

The truck jolted as it entered the gates to the camp, the hardening mud from the night before when it had rained becoming bumpy and waking those who had been sleeping as the wheels ran over it.

"Welcome to Hell, Freaks," a man said when he came around and opened the door to the back of the truck, letting everyone out one by one. A nine year old boy watched with wide eyes as the new shipment of Freaks left the truck. "Alright!" Announced a man who had lined them all up on a line of red paint that was on the concrete, and the gate they had come in through shut with a loud crash.

"I'm General Walker," the man introduced himself, "and you are nothing. You are going to be given new clothes and a number. You are not going to be called by your name because you do not deserve a name. You will be given a bunk and a blanket, but no pillow because you do not deserve a pillow. You are abominations. You will serve the rest of your sore ass lives here until someone decides what the fuck to do with you. Now fuck off." Another man came around and whacked the person on the far end of the line with a stick, telling them, "forward! Move!"

They all began to move, single file, turning a few times and then walking up some stairs and into the second floor of Cell Block D. Dean was the first one to be given a number. "2697!" The man shouted in his face, suddenly throwing him clothes, which had his number stitched into it. "2698!" He shouted in the face of the boy who had been speaking to him in the truck when he was abducted.

The man kept spitting in everyone's faces until he was done and ending with 2707, then turned towards someone sitting in their bunk, who had stitches on their outfit that wasn't only their number 2100 but also "Instructor". The prisoner nodded and then the guard left the room quickly. "Okay," 2100 said, "I'm gonna take you to your beds. Feel free to tell me your names, but if you don't want to, I get it."

After taking the first five people to their bunks, he wound up turning to Dean and saying, "bottom bunk, number 83. We'll get you a blanket later. Above you is 2466, her name's Bela. Don't fuck with her." Sighing, Dean sat down on his bunk and looked around the dimly lit room. Suddenly, above him, the girl named Bela's head flipped downward so it was upside down, staring at Dean with normal eyes. "Shit," she said, then laughed, climbing down, out of her bunk.

"Thought I'd get someone cute."

Dean narrowed his eyes, too, but just then, Bela reached her hand out and said, "I'm kidding. Well. No, I'm not, but just— shake my hand...2697."

"My name is Dean," he stated firmly, then shook her hand, "and where the hell can I take a piss?"

\---

Dean learned, a day later, when they were eating breakfast in the large mess hall, that there were just some people you don't mess with. And that's how he ended up with corn mush all over his face.

Thirty minutes earlier;

"Get the fuck up!" A guard announced, banging on the metal pole of one of the bunks with his stick, "be ready in five minutes for breakfast!"

Dean's first thought was, well, how the hell am I supposed to take my morning shit and get ready in five minutes?

He quickly grabbed his clothes, getting out of the ones he had fallen asleep in and throwing them under his mattress. He wanted to keep his normal clothes. At the five minute mark, Instructor 2100 guided all of the prisoners out of the cell block and out to the mess hall, Dean practically hopping because he was trying to get his right shoe on while walking, which he finally managed before they walked into the gigantic room.

"So y'all are gonna grab a tray from over there, then go down the lunch line. If you're a vegetarian, then that sucks 'cause three fourths of the shit we eat here is meat. So you take what you get an you eat it."

There was a small sigh from the boy behind him, 2698, who Dean had looked back at and said, "dude..I'm sorry." The boy shook his head and the dropped his eyes.

In the lunch line, the boy said, "my name is Adam, by the way. I'm sixteen. From Utah. You?" Dean smiled over at him slightly at the introduction. "Dean. Twenty-six. From Kansas." Adam smiled and said, "nice to meet you, Dean."

Another ten minutes later and Dean finally made it out of the lunch line, Adam trailing behind. The two sat down at one of the long metal tables, Dean sitting next to a man who was far too large for any human, seriously, who's number was "1000," exactly.

"What the fuck are you doing, sitting right here at my table?" 1000 asked, his voice deep, practically booming. Dean's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't meet his eyes.

"Eating," was Dean's simple reply.

1000 quickly returned the phrase, except in a much different way, and grabbed a handful of his corn mush, throwing it in Dean's face. He laughed, and so did the people at the table in front of them who'd seen the small little instance go down. "Eat that, 2687." The man spat, and Dean spat out corn mush from his mouth and onto his tray.

He didn't say a word when he stood up, moving to go to a different table, but then he was turning around and punching the guy across the face, the man's eyes widening, head turning to the side. He spun around with a blood coming out of his nose and a look that would kill, and the rest, well—

Dean was taken to the "infirmary", his face bleeding, the nurse putting a small bandage over the one that needed stitches and that was that.

Dean knew he was stupid. Whatever. At least he fought and wasn't a coward like the next person, right?

\---

Dean knew what it was like to sleep with the pain of a lost battle on his bones but this was far worse that what he had experienced previously. He was in no luxurious hospital bed with no nurse to bring him water for his sore throat and chapped lips. Instead, he was in a bed with what was barely a mattress and no pillow for his head to rest easily on.

It was as if he was sleeping on a rock.

A cold, hard, rock, that seemed to stab him in all of the places that had been previously hurting.

Dean was stupid, he knew that already, of course.

But maybe he wasn't that stupid.

\---

One Month Later

"You're still a dumbass, 2697," Bela said, Dean giving her a glare. His name was Dean.

"I'm not a dumbass. I'm a human being. Human beings, collectively, are dumbasses. So, don't blame me for my dumbassery. Blame the human race." Dean replied, Bela snorting, shaking her head.

"Alright. Fine. Dumbass." She smirked, stepping closer and wrapping her arm around his waist, "my dumbass." She kissed him, and Dean kissed back, but his eyes didn't close and they drifted away from her, a hand lifting blankly to her hip.

"So you're saying.." she began, sitting down on Dean's bed, "that the guards are dumbasses? 2100? 1000? All of us?"

"Everybody." He nodded, "total dumbassery. Total and complete dumbassery. No one's not a dumbass. And I say this politely." There was another chuckle from Bela, her hand reaching up to grab at Dean's, trying to pull him down. "And God is a dumbass?"

"Oh my God, he's the worst! The dumbass of the dumbasses. He literally created the dumbassery we call humans. Seriously. Haven't you realized? I mean, the whole flood thing, like, 2000 years ago, the hell was that? Dumbassery of the negative 2000th century, I'd say."

Finally, Dean crawled into the bed next to her, and the person in the bunk across from ten exclaimed, "ew, get a goddamn room!" "What room is there for us to get, dumbass?" He retorted, and wrapped an arm around Bela, kissing her.

\---

The rest of the month consisted purely of some form of, what could have easily been, torture. Though, barely any blood was shed. It was the sweat collecting over his skin, making his shirt stick to his back. It was in the way he was forced around, mining coal and the occasional iron. Except he was never able to find iron. And..no one was.

They all said— the guards— "find iron and you'll be rewarded." No one ever found iron.

Goddamn assholes, for saying anything like that.

Except still, Dean labored in the hot summer sun, in Hell, guards watching over him and the rest of the Freaks. All of the workers (Freaks) fell asleep to sores in their backs, the warm-cool water of the showers doing barely anything to help the constant ache.

Even in the Cell Blocks, it was hot. The heat was impossible to escape. The only time they were allowed an escape was in the ten minutes between bedtime and shower time that they had their thoughts to themselves.

He wondered, sometimes, in that time, what others thought of. In that time. Did they think of their families? Their homes? Dogs? Cats? Any sort of pet? A girlfriend? A boyfriend? The painting in the front hall of their homes? Or..the way their home smelled?

The last one, Dean tried to remember. He tried to remember what it smelled like, even before he was taken to the camp. He wanted to remember the smell of his mom's perfume and maybe even the way his brother's hair smelled when he pressed a kiss to the top of his head and rubbed his shoulder because be got another A grade.

He missed home.

His brother.

Even sometimes, his father.

"Goodnight, Bela," he said, taking her hand from the bottom bunk. "Goodnight, 2697," she whispered back, "dumbass."

After all, in the midst of this camp called Hell, next week, as the rumors said, the guards were going to kill them all.

\---

There was a fire, he dreamt. It was lighting the guards tower up and the fence around the Freak camp, but nobody awoke. No one heard the screams. They were all too sore and tired and do anything about it.

"Get the hose! Get the fucking hose!" One of them shouted, an arrow flying through the air and getting the guard in the tower in the heart.

The fire reached the coal and fueled further, further, spreading to the wooden sheds where the guards slept. Gunshots fired, aiming at nothing but the trees and empty land outside of the camp.

Dean's eyes opened. There was an explosion. The metal barrels that held the coal was getting hot. Fire shot through he air the same way the arrows did, shouts coming from outside of the camp where suddenly, the people attacking ran in. Unannounced. Not welcome. But completely, and utterly, in ecstasy.

They were laughing.

The men were laughing. The men in the towers screamed. The women were laughing.

In the chaos of it all, people began to wake, hearing the screams and the explosions and the gunshots firing at nothing. In the chaos of it all, the thing that most scared him was the hand on his shoulder sending a searing pain through his body.

"Get up," the man said who hovered over him, "get up, I'm getting you out of here!" Dean looked up, his lips pursing, taking a moment to realize that his dream bad come to life and the men burning was real. "Get the fuck up, you dumbass, I'm saving you!"

Dean, as fast as that, got up, the two gripping onto each other's wrists as they ran out of the Cell Block. Two dozen other men and women were running around, getting people out of the Cell Blocks as fast as they could, as swiftly as they could.

A bullet to one of the Freak's hearts sent an excruciating scream throughout the camp. Dean stopped, but the man holding onto his wrist urged him forward. "Forget about them," he said, "I'm taking you somewhere safe. Promise. Just trust me."

The lack of food in his system made it hard for him to keep running, but he still nodded, and he still ran, letting the man guide him to one of the multiple trucks parked in the forest.

The man got him situated in the back of the truck, where there were another five Freaks from the camp inside, before he introduced himself, his hand on the handle of one of the two doors on the back of the truck.

"My name is Castiel," he said, "I'm a Freak, and so is everyone else who just raided your camp. We're gonna take you somewhere safe. I just need you to stay here for now." With that, and a frantic nod from everyone else in the truck, he smiled warmly.

"So," Dean started.

"Where do you think we're headed?"


	7. No More Words

The early morning sun rolled over the hills.

Next to him, a man who called himself Castiel breathed quietly, turning his head ever so often.

The night had gone by slow, but in a tempo that included notes making the world run by like it had been going a day a minute.

He watched green with sun lying on top of it move slowly by, accompanied with the welcome rumble of the truck. He was going somewhere unknown, with a man he didn't know, in a truck of people he'd hopefully get to know.

Bella wasn't in this truck. Maybe on the one a few miles ahead. He wasn't paying attention.

"I love you so much, baby boy. My sweet, bouncing baby boy.."

Candles. Fire. Softly blown out.

A cake. A boy's family. A gathering- a birthday.

Dean Winchester was breathing inside of his small frame. Dean Winchester was escaping, inside of this large world.

"Happy birthday!"

He was a bundle of laughter. He was free.

He was free.

Castiel turned toward Dean, smiling, soft, as if he knew what he was thinking about. Dean smiled too, and watched the wind push the grass and move it like waves in the sea.

\---

"How long will this take?" Dean asked quietly, careful not to wake those currently asleep. "It's been six hours so far," Castiel said, running his hand through his hair, which was messy enough as is. "It'll be another four. Probably, depending on bathroom breaks and how long our lunch stop takes." With that, he smiled, and Dean's stomach grumbled at the thought of food.

As the person next to Dean scooted closer, he was forced to squish even further against Castiel and let out a huff, Castiel shaking his head. "This is how it always is. But there's plenty of room at our camp, I promise." He whispered, Dean chuckling softly.

"Camp..where?" He asked, grinning up at him. "Old-Los Angeles. You know. The one that was abandoned but used to be a huge city."

"No fucking way. I thought.." "You thought wrong. We have a whole, pretty decent sized area there. We're set up in some nice buildings, away from New-Los Angeles. Most of us share apartment buildings. Some people who really don't have much to their name sleep in cubicles. Like in office buildings. That's pretty rough, since it's so tiny, and everyone shares a kitchen and bathroom. Still, it's something, right?" Castiel sighed. He seemed very invested in this, and Dean couldn't blame him.

"What's it like for you, then?" Dean asked. "Oh. Considering we live partly in the resort area, I have a hotel room with a view of the ocean." He smiled, proud and almost looking as if he were bragging. Really, he wasn't at all, and Dean could tell. He was just being cute.

Moments went by, Dean smiling warmly into the passing scene. Next to him, Castiel laid his head back over the seat and let his hair fly through the wind.

He heard piano in his ears.

He saw peace in his eyes.

\----

Running along the keys, white and black, fast and joyous, pressing beautiful chords and watching the music fly from his fingers. Beautiful, picking up, slowing down and getting tired, he settled. He settled.

And he breathed.

"We're almost here." Castiel said, having noticed Dean previously playing some sort of air piano. He didn't mind it, though. "20 minutes, perhaps."

They had just driven into a highway ramp, bringing their group of trucks toward the camp Dean waited desperately to see.

It was nighttime, the drive long and boring at most parts. He had done his best to sleep through most of it, catching up on what he had lost in his time in Hell.

"Unfortunately," Castiel began, looking around and sighing. "Most of you won't be staying anywhere special for your first few days. You'll be staying in the registration building while you get put into our system. And during registration, you'll go through welcoming, testing, all of that stuff. It's not very fun, but it's at least interesting sometimes."

Dean nodded a little bit and looked across from him, watching the empty roads and buildings go by, as usual. They made him want to write music. Sporadically and abruptly, as if he knew every instrument in a modern-day symphony.

"What exactly does testing entail?" Dean asked, Castiel raising his head to answer. "Well, it's to test your abilities. So..strengths and weaknesses, your powers, your fears, those things." He explained, Dean nodding along. "And what are yours? Your powers?"

Castiel only smiled as an answer and gave him a glance with his piercing blue eyes, letting Dean figure it out for himself.

With that, Castiel got up and went over to the window the went to the front of the truck, knocking on it until the passenger opened up. They talked for a while, seeming to be serious and planning something. Well, Dean wouldn't know.

In ten minutes, the truck drove into a tunnel, Dean assuming this was just another part of the road, when really, it expanded into a large system of rooms used for combat training to meetings and restaurants. It was gigantic already, just in the large underground parking lot that all the trucks parked into.

"We're here?" Dean asked, Castiel jumping out of the truck. "Yeah. Follow me." He said, Dean following, the rest trailing behind the driver and the man that was in the passenger seat.

"Jesus..what is this place?" He marvelled, looking up, around, and smiling. "It's huge."  
"Yeah. I've noticed." Castiel mocked, giving a chuckle and shaking his head. Dean grinned and nudged his shoulder, laughing quietly to himself.

He was eventually led to a large common room, where all of those who were rescued from Hell and those who wanted to listen, stood. A man and a woman walked forth to a podium that stood on a balcony above all, the man leaning into the microphone and beginning.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm glad to welcome 102 new members of our community today!" He paused to let a cheer run through the room. Dean clapped with enthusiasm. "We raided the camp Hell yesterday and it was a grand success! We're proud to have all of you here and we wish our warmest welcome."

"I imagine you are all very confused, so please allow me to elaborate. I am Elijah, the son of the founder of this camp dedicated to those who we call Freaks. Here, it's a term of endearment. Anyways— in your first few days here, you'll be registered and place into our system, and then undergo what we call "General Testing" or, GT for short. This is the process in which your powers are truly brought out and shown as a gift, not a burden."

He went on, describing their entry process to the finest detail. It was nice to know what entailed.

The new members, as Elijah called them, were divided into sections, Dean going to section 3 of 4 and taken to the men's floor. This were five flights of stairs above where they had entered from, and was a large room, full of cubicles Castiel had described before. He had a feeling this was what he'd be getting for his first few days, or weeks, if anything.

It was better than Hell though, for sure.

\---

The day ended after even more detail given by the section leader who had led them to their cubicles, including simple information about where the bathrooms and showers were.

Dean took the first chance he got to go to the shower. He cherished the hot water that smoothed his hair, streamed down his face, and cascaded toward the floor, bouncing ever lightly over the tight curves of his back.

His small frame from not having proper meals for the last month had his hipbones gutting out of his lower torso and his stomach to sink into his skin. He couldn't bear to look at himself.

Not a two months ago did he have a lean, muscled frame. Now, he was a stick, broken in two.

Dean stayed in the shower until he stopped counting the minutes.

He stepped out, drifting, in a fog of old and new memories.

He gathered his clothes and got himself dressed, thinking of his sweet, smiling mother and smiling at himself in the mirror. It was almost as if she were hovering over him, putting her hands on his shoulders and whispering, "just let it be," into a kiss on the top of his head.

Come to think of it, he'd be taller than her now.

He went to bed with that thought in his head and dreamt of somewhere a million miles away.

\---

The next morning began at nine a.m. Dean had already been up, sorting his things in his cubicle and preparing himself for the day ahead until he was gathered by his section leader.

The new members ate their first full breakfast that they'd had in a long time. Warm food was nearly foreign by then.

General Testing began the moment Dean, the first one done eating, stood up and put his tray away. It was like someone noticed him as soon as he dropped his fork because his section leader was as fast as lightning to guide him where he needed to be.

He entered a large room covered in white. Simple white, with not a stain on the wall and not a scuff mark on the floor. There were several musical instruments, spanning from a clarinet to a guitar, easels with paint, charcoals, and pencils provided. Paper and a pencil sat on a white table in the corner of the room. Other things that didn't appeal to him were there as well, displaying what seemed to be the multiple interests that one could have.

His hair got disheveled when he ran his hand through it, and all of the sudden, the door open, Castiel appearing and smiling at him.

"Hello, Dean." He greeted warmly, giving him a quick handshake. "I see you're the first to start GT. Let's get right to it, shall we?" Castiel grinned and seemed as giddy as could be, but just kept standing there, not saying another word.

"Am I..am I supposed to do something with these?" He asked, chuckling. "Because.. dude.." he sighed. "I don't draw. I can kind of play the piano and the guitar.."

"Well, then play the piano and the guitar." Castiel said, as simple as that, continuing to smile warmly.

Dean shook his head and dragged his feet over to the grand piano, pressing down a few random keys before sitting himself on the bench. C, D, A, C, E.. He began, dragging the last note as he shifted on the bench. C, D, A, C, E, he repeated, but didn't pause and shift this time. Suddenly, his fingers burst off into sixteenth notes, dancing rhythms onto the keys, breathing soft as a feather as he played and listened to the music that simply poured out of him.

The chords flew into what sounded like a masterpiece, combined with the ongoing pace of the mile-a-minute sixteenth notes.

He picked his fingers up and let them fall down into another, growing cord, bringing the music into a grand crescendo before tapering slowly and masterfully into a soft piano, a soft, audible breath leaving Dean's mouth.

"C, D, A, C, E.." He ended, resting his fingers atop the piano keys and glancing up at Castiel.

"That was amazing." He said, chuckling. "Can you do anything else, though?"

Dean only smiled and picked up the guitar.

(https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=g_72RkQV25Y The beginning, and then skip to 3:25)  
\---

"Okay, so you've officially proven that you're some sort of musical genius." Castiel said, making Dean chuckle and shake his head. "I assume that because you're standing, you don't have much else to show. Correct?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Dean shrugged, looking around the room. He couldn't draw or write or do math, so he just stood there and waited for further instruction.

"Okay, then, I need you to tell me what powers you've presented with in the past and we can go from there." He smiled, Dean staring at him blankly.

"I mean..I've been able to make..rocks move..'n stuff.."

"So, Earth and nature. Thank you. That was easy. Follow me." He brought him to a door in the corner of the room they were already in, opening it with a handle on the wall Dean couldn't even see.

Inside was actually outside. He had been led out to some sort of vast garden, with beautiful willow trees and large boulders jutting from the ground. Vines crawled their way up the building they were just in.

"Go ahead." Castiel said, smiling at him again with that same, warming one he had given a moment ago.

"I can't just— do it. It happens when I'm in danger or when I've got an adrenaline rush." He huffed and crossed his arms, glancing at him quickly.

With that, Castiel pulled out a knife and pressed it to Dean's throat, him somehow still managing that smile. "How about now?"

"What the fuck—!" Dean pushed him away, Castiel only fighting back and kicking him in the stomach, punching him across the cheek when he was hunched over.

Dean growled and ran forward, grabbing him by his torso and ramming him against the wall, the vines wrapping around his wrists and ankles.

"Ah-haah, there he is." Castiel smirked, glancing up at the vines before looking back at Dean, straight into his bright, green eyes.

"Holy shit." Dean laughed, looking at what he had done and shaking his head. "Castiel. Holy fucking shit. That's insane. I mean, I've done it before, obviously, but not— not like this.." he focused on the vines, tilting his head slightly as he made them tighten and then fall away to their original position.

"By the way," Castiel said, "you can call me Cas." He rubbed his wrists and turned toward him. "Sorry about putting a knife against your neck. I've found that that gets someone's adrenaline pumping faster than most things."

"Yeah, no shit," Dean laughed, rubbing his face and looking around. "I've been able to make rocks move, like I said. Do you think I could do it?"

"Go ahead. It's fun for me." Cas said, leaning back against the wall and watching him move to the small stream of water that had pebbles at the bottom of it. Gotta start small, right?

Dean focused, harder than he's ever focused in his life, probably, and stared at the rocks in the water. One of them began to move, shuffling around and shaking the rocks around them, rising up just barely before dropping back down into its former position.

"Dammit." Dean sighed. He really thought he could do it.

"Don't worry, Dean. It takes time." Cas put a hand on his shoulder, watching him sigh and drop his shoulders.

"Let's go inside, yes?" He asked, Dean nodding a bit and shrugging. He didn't care what they did, so long as he could continue doing fun stuff like that.

"We're gonna start you on combat training soon. For now—" Cas was stopped by Dean laughing and shaking his head. "Combat training? Me? I grew up with a father who was head of a leading camp in Kansas. I was taught how to fight the minute I popped out of my mom. I don't need combat training."

"Dean." Castiel said simply, looking him directly in the eyes. "We aren't talking about fighting against humans, here. We're talking about Freak-against-Freak combat. That's something that you have to get used to." He stared at him, straight into those leaf-green eyes and getting his point across.

"I've been trained to fight against Freaks—"

"You haven't been trained to fight against Freaks with your powers though, have you? No. Clearly. So come on. You can talk all the shit you want to talk, but maybe think about it before you do." Castiel huffed, walking off and shaking his head. Dean followed hesitantly after a few moments, considering his fate as he did so.

Walking by them once inside in the main hallway was a man looking to be around Dean's age, his head turning to look at them.

Dean could barely tell, but the man had winked and had a smirk on his face.

Oh, the joys of being a pretty boy in a new place.

And so,

it began.


	8. From The Stars

A/N: all of my chapter titles are songs (specifically the ones that inspired that chapter). Feel free to listen while reading. The artists, in order of chapter, not including Running Devils, are Cage the Elephant, The Strokes, The Colourist, (none & all isn't a song either) The Paper Kites, and Anna Calvi. White Lies for this one.

\---

he catches raindrops from his window, it reminds him how he falls

from the stars back to our cities where we've never felt so small

raindrops from his window making puddles in his hands

he sees how quick the water's rising as another raindrop lands

\---

"Can you tell me why we're in field at 8 a.m.?" Dean asked, huffing and scratching his shoulder, which was exposed by the blank, black t-shirt he wore.

"For training. I told you." Cas replied, shrugging. "You can control nature and Earth, apparently. I had a feeling. Your eyes give it away." He grinned, stretching his arm over his head.

"Oh, so because I have green eyes, that directly correlates to me having the 'powers' that I have?"

"Well," Cas began, "kind of." He chuckled, glancing at him for a moment and not continuing the conversation before raising a brow. "You may want to stretch. This stuff takes loose limbs."

Dean sighed and sat down on the ground, reaching over and touching his toes. He was required to take a gymnastics class in his time as a student in Kansas. Thus, he reached his left leg out, pulled the other one in, stretching toward it again and doing the same with the other. He huffed, counting to ten before spreading his legs completely apart and leaning over them.

All the while, Cas watching, staring, at a loss for all words. He scratched the back of his neck and lifted his leg up, stretching his hamstrings as he held it upright. The last thing he needed was—

That.

Dean standing up, bending over, and touching his toes.

Okay. Okay, holy— "Okay, yeah, you should be good." "But, I haven't even—" "No, it's fine. Really. Let's just..start." Castiel huffed in embarrassment and shook his head, going over to him without another word.

"Can you get into your fighting stance for me?" He asked, Dean complying quickly and doing so, putting his feet apart and his arms up in a ready position. "Okay. Okay, that's good, yeah. But— this isn't weapons training, okay? This is power training. And I need you to really channel all your anger and energy that you've got pent up in there." Cas chuckled a bit, taking a few steps away from him.

He lifted his arm up and opened his hand to show a rock, about the size of a softball, and proceeded to ask him, "make it float."

"Make it float?"

"Yes, Dean, make it float. Please and thank you."

Dean laughed at that and shook his head, but still, settled himself down and focused on it. With all of his willpower, he stared at it, urging it to rise up out of his hand.

Sadly and unfortunately, all it did was shake and wobble and nearly topple off of his hand.

"Okay," Cas sighed, closing his hand and quickly over to him. "It's in your core. Your gut. It's not just your mind. You have to tighten your stomach like you're doing crunches." He put a hand over his stomach and lifted his other hand up, showing the rock again.

"Make it float."

Dean glanced at the hand on his stomach, which he tightened quickly and focused again on the rock.

"There we go." Cas moved the hand holding the rock away, only to see it floating in the air, not dropping when he removed his hand.

"That's great. Now hold it. Don't stop holding it. Keep your stomach tight, Dean." He looked over his shoulder at the rock, smirking softly as he watched it wobble ever so slightly, mid-air.

"That's really good, Dean, don't lose focus, keep that stomach tight." With that, he moved the hand on his stomach down slightly, Dean's focus completely moving to the touch of his hand.

The rock fell, giving a "thump" when it landed on the ground.

Cas removed his hand immediately and coughed.

It was a good start.

\---

3 days previous,

"Josh—" Jess began, pushing on his chest and laughing as he kissed her neck. "Josh, I have to go. I'm going to be late for work, please."

With a huff, Sam pulled back and stood up, crossing his arms. "Fine. Go to work. I guess it's more important than me."

"Oh, Josh, shut up. I'll see you in six hours. Bye." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and then rushed out, hopping onto her bike and heading to work.

Sam sighed, deciding to go out for lunch during his free Saturday (no work, good lord). He found a place below the Arch, which had become, instead of an attraction, a government building. What used to be a museum below is now conference rooms and bunkers.

Whenever he was done eating, he stood up,  
threw his food away, and headed into the bathroom. Before he could even unzip his fly, there was someone coming up behind him and cupping their hand over his mouth. "Sam Winchester," it was a women's voice, "where's your brother?"

\---

Dean walked passed somebody that had eyes that were red. He could only imagine what powers they had, and how fast their parents kicked them out the minute they saw the kids eyes. People like that, Dean thought to himself, he was worried for. Sunglasses must be their best friend.

What Dean found himself looking forward to day and day after was training with Cas. It was exhausting sometimes, but he knew Cas would show him what he could do.

So far, everything was focused on Dean learning his own powers, not learning how to fight with it. It was boring a lot of the time, as well as frustrating; some days were a success and others..not so much.

Luckily, Cas wasn't one to judge. He always gave positive affirmations when he needed it.

What he didn't understand, though, of his first week being there, was who the hell the guy was who winked at him on his second day there. He never found out his name, but he did find him around where ever he was himself.

And sitting at an empty lunch table, he looked up, seeing that same man walking toward him with a tray, until suddenly Cas sat down across from him, derailing the guy following him around. He could see him huff in anger and turn around before his attention turned to Cas.

"Weird." Dean said, taking a bite of his chicken caesar wrap.

"What?"

"That guy keeps following me. I don't know his name, but... you don't have to do anything about it, though. It's fine. It's just a little weird." Dean explained with a shrug and a long sigh.

"Who? The guy with black hair? Shorter?"

"Yeah, him."

"Shit." Cas breathed quietly, shaking his head. "Don't mind him. He's my brother, Michael. He's older than me and an asshole but.." he shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it."

"You really don't have to do anything about it. It's fine.." Dean chuckled awkwardly, glancing over Cas' shoulder to find Michael glancing right back.

Cas only huffed and shook his head, going back to his food.

Fine.

He wouldn't talk.

\---

Cas started the next day's training by throwing a smaller rock directly at Dean's face.

Before Dean could even think, it had stopped, floating in front of his nose mid-air.

Castiel grinned widely, exclaiming, "yes! That's what we want!" He laughed. "You didn't even think, Dean. You just did. Amazing." He smiled, only to suddenly throw two more rocks at him, the one in front of Dean's face dropping to the ground as he moved the other two out of his way...with his mind.

(when u think ur writing is cool but actually it's not at all)

"Yes! Very good, Dean!" He smiled even wider, Dean's chest heaving a few meters away from him. Just that took the breath out of him.

"That was great. We just need to—" surprising him, he threw a rock larger than anything Dean's taken before at him, and instead of what he thought would happen (it hitting Dean in the stomach. He aimed for the stomach. Yes. Not the face. He was a nice guy...and Dean had a pretty face.), it exploded into sharp, jagged shrapnel and moved outward.

The rock stopped in front of Cas' face, all of it hovering, making it look as if it had been raining rock and Dean just pressed pause.

"Amazing." Cas breathed, "that was very good."

The shrapnel all fell, Dean's heart warming at the praise and a small, proud smile spreading across his face. "Thank you."

"No, Dean. You don't thank me. This is all you. I'm just..helping it along." Cas chuckled, looking him in the eyes.

"That doesn't mean I can't thank you."

Cas then only shrugged and scratched his scruff.

"Let's do it again!"

\---

They were both sweating by the end of it, an hour later.

"That was fun." Cas said, gathering his things. Dean sat down on the ground and held his knees loosely, laughing quietly to himself.

"Did you know that I'd be able to stop the rocks?"

"No. But if you hadn't, then that would've been a really, really horrible bruise." He smiled at him brightly.

"Do you want to come to my place for a water or something? It's closer than where you're staying." Cas suggested, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Uh..sure." With that, Dean stood, brushing the dirt off of his clothes and walking with Cas toward the car.

They arrived twenty minutes later, ten minutes faster than the drive back to the registration building. From there, Cas guided Dean to what was a working elevator (the electric team had been able to power on the electricity a few years ago, thus allowing that sort of thing) and up to his room on the fifteenth floor.

The elevator doors opened directly to his room, which, mind you, was more like a penthouse.

The first thing he saw was a large living room, including a TV, a stereo system, a comfy looking leather couch with a blanket slung over the back of it, and a glass coffee table. When he turned to the right, there was the kitchen. A whole kitchen.

Provided was a stovetop, a fridge, a small pantry and cabinets, a microwave, and a toaster. Not only that, but the cabinets were a sleek black, with silver handles and topped marble countertops, including the one on the bar, where he had two stools on the opposing side, looking into the kitchen.

"Holy shit." Dean laughed. "This is really fucking nice."

"I mean.." Cas sighed, scratching his neck and going to the fridge, grabbing two water bottles.

"What do you even do in the whole scheme of things, anyways?" Dean asked before chugging half of the water and sitting himself down on the couch.

"It's..complicated." Cas said, sighing, yet again.

"Yes, I train. But..certain things are gifted to you once you've completed enough rescue missions. Yours— when I got you out— was my forty first. I got this on my twenty fifth."

"Holy shit. That's— yeah.." he deserved it. Dean had assumed he had just gotten this because he was friends with the higher up guys or something, but no. He really did deserve it.

"I've seen a lot of really crazy shit, Dean." He chuckled to relieve the tension in the room.

"But there was something about your camp that just—" he shook his head. "I don't know. It wasn't the worst thing I've seen, no, not but a long shot. But it was just really hard. It didn't seem like it at the time, but.."

He shrugged, not even knowing what he was saying by this point. "Never mind."

Dean had been listening intently, his head nodding slowly. He understood, somewhat. But he wished he could get into his head. At least a little bit.

"Where are you from, Cas? How'd you wind up here?"

"Oh, Jesus, long story. Uh..well, long story short I was born in upstate New York. I started running when I was 16, after I realised what I could do. I had gotten to Ohio before someone caught me. I bounced around between multiple camps, escaping uh..three. Yeah, three, before I got to Texas. That place—" he took a sip of his water. "We'll say it wasn't pleasant."

"Anyways, these people, these fucking angels saved us. We got taken here, the same way you were, and we trained. Now, I'm 29, been here for five years and been on forty one rescue missions in the last three."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"What about you, Dean?"

"Oh, uh— I was born in Kansas. Lawrence, Kansas, specifically. Uh, my mom died when I was young and I have a brother and my dad's still alive, probably hunting me down. I tried running once because I knew I needed to get out of that place. I was being training to fight Freaks when I was one and— you can see the problem there."

"I took my brother, Sam, with me, and we fled to St. Louis. We were there for a while, made a good place for ourselves, before my dad caught up to me and took me back to the camp in Kansas, where, within a very short amount of time, fuckin' S.W.A.T. showed up and took me and about a dozen other people to Hell."

"The rest, you know." He sighed, feeling less validated than Cas. Here Cas was, having been alone for years and earned himself a life here, and Dean was sitting on his leather couch like it didn't mean much.

"Anyways—" Cas started, taking another sip of his water. "Do you need to shower? Because if you need to, you can. I don't mind. I just know that the water pressure in the registration building sucks and that mine is a lot better." Him and Dean laughed, but Dean shook his head.

"I'm all good. I'll shower later. I don't need one now." Dean said, which had Cas standing and heading to the bathroom. "Then I'm showering." He announced, Dean turning toward the TV and stereo system. "Do these work?" He asked, hearing clothes drop to the floor in the other room.

"What? The TV and stereo? Oh, yeah, completely." Cas said with a raised voice, the water turning on in the shower, drowning out Dean's voice even though he had left a crack in the door to let the steam out.

"Fuck. How do I turn this on?" Dean asked, not realising until about thirty seconds later that Cas either couldn't hear him or was ignoring him. Anyhow, he looked around for a button, somewhere, until his dumb ass found a remote on the coffee table that turned the stereo right on.

A song began to play, Dean sitting back on the couch as he listened.

There was a soft banjo, picking up slowly until the chorus.

"I'm lying on the moon..  
my dear, I'll be, there soon.."

Dean closed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he listened calmly.

It's a quiet and starry place..  
Times where  
Swallowed up in space,  
we're here  
a million miles away..."

Dean sighed quietly, and from inside the shower, Cas leant against the wall, his eyes closed.

"there's things I wish I knew  
there's no thing I'd keep from you  
It's a dark and shiny place  
But with you my dear,  
I'm safe,  
and we're a million miles away.."

"A million miles away.."

Content rolled over the both of them.

\---

"Go to Hell." Sam spat, tied down to a wooden chair and dripping with water from head to toe.

This girl kept asking where Dean was and he wouldn't tell. Not over his life. No matter how much ice cold water he was splashed with— he wouldn't tell.

"It's been two days, Sam." The girl said, stabbing a knife into her wooden cart that held all of her torture devices. "There was an ambush at a certain Freak camp and your brother Dean escaped."

With that, Sam's eyes widened slightly, but he kept his head down, not showing any expression.

"And that's not good for anybody."

She huffed, waiting for an answer.

"Well?"

"Go. To. Hell!"

She stabbed a knife into his thigh in anger and left the room.


	9. Believe

"I know that you know, obviously, what you can do. But that's only a fraction of it."

Dean furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to say something, but Cas answered quickly, without even needing to hear it. "I know, how am I supposed to know, right? But Dean, I've trained dozens of other people and they've all had a main power and a few other.. smaller ones. We just have to figure out what yours are." Cas smiled quickly and sat down on a log in front of Dean.

"So..what am I supposed to do? Stand here and tell you that I can read minds or some shit like that?"

"Can you? Why didn't you tell-"

"No, Cas. I can't read minds." Dean huffed. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, for one, I need you tell me what you've always enjoyed. It can be anything, too. I mean- don't go on telling me any of your weird fetishes, though, because there have been a few people who-"

Dean furrowed his brow, quickly shaking his head and raising his hands. "Cas, buddy, Jesus Christ-"

Cas looked up at him and for a moment, just stared.

Then he smiled, widely and with the corners of his eyes crinkling with it.

"What?" Dean asked, confused. This idiot in front of him was grinning ear to ear and he had no idea why.

"No- sorry, no reason. Just...go on. Tell me what you like. For example, I like..knowing what's going on in people's heads. Helping people. Animals..campfires.."

Dean went over and sat down in next to him on the log, which was slightly too small for two grown men to be sitting on it, so they were squished against each other. Dean could feel Cas' arms. Specifically, the muscle on them. He wished he could get his old figure back faster. Hell took it all out of him.

Cas stayed quiet, his hands folded together over his lap as he awaited Dean's words.

"I like nighttime." He began, "I like the peacefulness of it all. The bugs, the moon. You know..that sort of shit."

Cas only smiled and nodded, not saying a word. He found that not talking to those who were going through this process was the best way to get it all out of them. After all, for some, there was a lot to talk about.

Dean sighed, shrugging and tipping his head back. "Okay, uh, I don't know..running. I like running. I could run for hours sometimes, if I had the chance. That's weird, but I don't know, it just came to mind."

"And?" Cas asked with a small grin, turning his head to look at him. "Anything else?"

"Not really. I mean- no. That's not one. Never mind. Yeah, that's all."

"What? What was it? To do this properly, I have to know exactly what comes to mind."

"Nothing. Just- I like listening to talk. Hear their voices and how each one can differ. It's interesting to me I guess. That's really stupid but it's true."

Cas grinned widely from ear to ear again, for some stupid ass reason that Dean couldn't quite place.

"You realise I was just talking in French, right?"

"What?"

"I asked you that question in French and you answered in French. Clearly, right?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? That was English." Dean turned his head but continued to look at him, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed in confusion.

"Wow..that's amazing." Cas looked at Dean's forehead as if he could see right through him, to what he was thinking, right into his brain.

"Cas, what the hell? You were talking in English.

"No, Dean, I wasn't. I was talking in French. Your brain interprets other languages as English. Wow..I've always wanted to be able to do that. That's brilliant." Cas couldn't stop smiling. He was utterly intrigued with him, to put it simply.

And to put it simply, it was called omnilinguilism, one of Dean's multiple powers. Dean was skeptical at first, but after some thought, it explained a lot. He could only wonder why it was just now brought up here.

\---

i don't even know if i believe

i don't even know if i believe

i don't even know if i believe

everything you're trying to say to me

so open up my eyes

tell me i'm alive

this is never gonna go our way

if i'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind

\---

"When do I get to see what you can do?" Dean asked, hoping the answer was, "now." Sadly, it wasn't, and Cas replied with, "in time, Dean."

It was later that day, now nighttime, Dean sitting in Cas' penthouse (he refused to call it a hotel room because it simply just wasn't that by this point) on his couch and scanning his eyes over to the large, wall-sized window that showed a view of the ocean, beautiful and blue with waves crashing against the beach.

"Well that isn't fair. I'm sitting here, showing you everything I can do, and I don't even know a single thing of what you can do."

Cas looked up at him, glaring and pressing his lips together from where he stood in the kitchen. "There's a time and a place. Now is not that time and this is not that place."

"Why?" Dean pressed further, trying to at least see, to get a glimpse of what Cas could do.

"Because, Dean- it's not-" he huffed. "For me, it's either something defensive or it's something intimate. I don't need to spend my time proving to people what I can do because I save it for when the time comes or for when the right person comes along to share it with."

Dean sighed audibly. It was a surprise to him that the first thing that came to mind when Cas said that was, "and I'm not that person?"

Cas, as if he knew what he was thinking, said, "in time, Dean."

After all, he did, indeed, know what he was thinking.

\---

"We have to do this the hard way, then, Sam." The girl huffed in anger, whistling as a cue for her boss to come into the room.

"I told you to only call me if things got serious, Meg!" He shouted in anger. Sam's vision was too cloudy to see what he looked like, and aside from that, he was in too much pain to even lift his head to look.

"It has gotten serious, sir. He won't tell me where he is, and as you can tell, I've done everything I can to get it out of him. He's too fucking stubborn." Meg growled and spat on his face, Sam turning his head like an abused dog to shield himself from it.

"Leave. I'll take it from here," the man instructed, sighing as he pulled a chair up and Meg disappeared.

He stared at him, his brow furrowed as if he were saddened by how hurt he was. Lord knows if that was true or not, but something in him had him lurching forward and pressing two fingers to his forehead, healing all of his wounds.

That something wasn't meant to be nice, because the minute Sam looked up at him and opened his mouth to say, "fuck you," Sam blacked out, the man inside of his head and taking control over his body, though still able to move his own body outside of Sam's.

This was going to be fun.

\---

Dean ended up falling asleep on the couch with soft music playing from the speakers and the moon shining softly into the room.

Cas, before going to bed himself, looked over at him, not knowing if he should tell him that it was midnight and that he needed to get to the building he was staying at, or if he should leave him be.

He decided for himself on the second one and grabbed the blanket that lay over the back of the couch, draping it over Dean before pausing to look at his sleeping face.

He was dreaming of the ocean, its waves wrapped around him, but simultaneously, drifting him along through the warm water.

Cas smiled at the thought and blocked out his dreams and decided he needed to catch up on his own.

\---

The next morning, when Dean awoke, Cas was in the kitchen, making breakfast for the two of them. Somehow, in the midst of it all, and probably because Cas was worried that the sound of the food cooking would wake him, he wound up in the guest bedroom, tangled in the sheets and running a hand through his hair wondering what time it was.

"It's nine twenty-three, Dean." Cas said, sensing his consciousness from the kitchen. "And I have bacon, eggs, and bagels for you here. As well as orange juice and milk, if you'd like some."

"Oh..kay.." Dean chuckled, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he stood, his toes curling into the carpet beneath his feet.

When he sat down across from Cas, calm warmed his body. He had a strange feeling of welcomeness, mixed in with a touch of care coming off of Cas that had him smiling and shaking his head.

This was stupid.

Him sitting with Cas eating breakfast with him at nine thirty in the morning.

"You can eat, Dean." Cas said, breaking the silence. "I don't know what you like, so I guess I just made whatever most people enjoy. That I know of, at least."

The bastard had poured not only a cup of orange juice for him, but another for milk, and another for water.

"Drink the milk, Dean. It has protein in it, and you'll need that. After all, you did say that you wanted your old figure back." Cas took a bite of his bacon, his made crispy, Dean's plate containing both crispy and soft bacon since, again, he didn't know what he liked. And, no, Dean hadn't said it, but he had thought it, and he had a feeling of what Cas was doing. Or, at least, what he could do.

"This was a nice gesture, Cas." Dean said, eating his eggs, scooping up bite after bite. He was starving, and that was probably because they had been too busy talking last night to make dinner.

"Slow down, Dean. We can't be training on an upset stomach."

Dean complied, but only because he had a strange feeling to just trust Cas and go with what he said.

\---

Later, in the field they usually trained in, Dean was practicing while Cas watched calmly and ate an apple.

It was hypnotic, the way Dean moved. He watched his arms reach out as he focused on a rock, lifting it into the air now with ease. He was getting better at this, clearly, because there was barely any strain in his muscles now. It was coming naturally, and so was the way he moved. Cas got lost in it all.

Deciding to begin their proper training, Cas stood up, chucking his apple away and standing in front of him.

"Today we're going to focus on using your powers even if you're distracted." Cas said, "because you can't be completely focused in on it. It has to be effortless and in a split second, especially if you're going to fight with it."

With that, Cas grabbed onto his arm and flung him to the ground, Dean trying to find a rock in the immediate area to throw at him as he was in mid-air.

"Don't find one, just do it!" Cas exclaimed, urging him to hone into his powers the way he needed to. "Just imagine one and it'll come to you, Dean."

When Dean stood up, Cas swung a punch at him, going easy, practically play-wrestling with him, but Dean didn't take too kindly to that and blocked the punch with his forearm and snaked his foot between Cas' feet, hooking it around one of his ankles and pulling, sending Cas to the ground.

"Oh, so that's how we're playing today?" Cas growled from where he lay on the ground, staring up at him.

Dean smirked a bit and reached his hand out for him, which Cas took with a warm smile and promptly punched Dean in the stomach with his other hand.

Dean stumbled back but glared at him at the same time, his head spinning and his eyes fixing on Cas', finding a look of, "come and get me" dancing in them. Dean gladly took the challenge and surged forward, ramming into Cas' stomach and forcing him forward, Cas wrapping his arm's around Dean in defense and trying to stop him, the heel's of his feet digging into the ground as he was pushed backward.

When Dean weakened, Cas got a better grip on him and pulled him up, over his head and threw him to the ground, the rock beneath Dean's head moving before Dean hit. He had sensed it, moving it without a second thought.

Cas breathed heavily, running his hand through his hair as he looked down at Dean, who was heaving and holding a hand over his chest.

This time, with no tricks attached, Cas reached his hand out for him, Dean taking it gladly and standing up, leaning into him for balance.

"Are you okay?" Cas asked, "I didn't mean to throw you so hard."

Dean shook his head, telling him, "it's fine. I'm good. It just hurt a bit."

"I did get you to do what I needed you to do, though, didn't I? You moved the rock that probably would've killed you if not for your actions." Cas smiled sweetly at him, looking him in the eyes inside of their close quarters. "Unfortunately, these things come the hard way."

Dean didn't seem to care.

Nor did he seem to care about the fact that he hadn't moved his hand from Cas' and Cas hadn't lifted his hand from Dean's hip, where it kept him balanced and upright.

"So you're good?" Cas asked again, just to be sure. He wouldn't continue if Dean was hurt too badly. After all, looking at him and using one of his powers, he could tell that nothing was broken.

"Yeah. I'm good." Dean smiled quickly, Cas guiding him over to the log they routinely sat on and helped him sit, one hand resting on his lower back for good measure.

Dean chugged a water bottle in the meantime, focused completely on the touch on his back.

\---

"You told me you like the nighttime?" Cas asked as he walked inside of the building Dean was meant to be staying at, Dean leading him up to his room so he could gather a few things.

"Yeah. Why?" Dean asked, getting into the elevator and standing next to him. They could be standing a few more feet apart from each other, but for some reason, shoulder-to-shoulder was necessary.

"Well...it's nine o'clock at night, the main city lights go out at ten, and, well..we could take a walk. I don't know. It's a thought. I'm just not tired yet and it's nice out tonight."

Dean shrugged, the elevator opening up and the two walking into the main floor, Dean heading toward his cubicle.

There were no decorations. After all, he had no time to really gather his things when he went off to Hell.

"Dude, whatever you wanna do. I don't give a shit, honestly. I'm not tired, either." Dean smiled at him and picked up his duffle bag, heading out immediately after that.

"Okay."

They drove back to Cas' place, the two getting out of the car and beginning away from the building, where Cas guided him to a walkway that led into the forest, and later, to the beach.

It really was a beautiful night, though. Dean could hear the crickets chirping softly from the trees, the waves in the distance crashing nonchalantly. He was content, walking next to Cas, who had his head down, a small smile on his face.

"I do love walks." Cas said, "especially at night. And in this weather. With the sea breeze and the smell of the ocean. Isn't it lovely?" Dean smiled softly and nodded, leaning slightly into Cas as they walked. The hand print on his shoulder, left by Cas when he rescued him from Hell, brushed against Cas' bare shoulder (he'd been in a tank top, though Dean wore a t-shirt. He didn't like people seeing the mark. Print? He didn't know what to call it.)

Dean paused, finding a pretty looking rock and picking it up, making it float above the palm of his hand, looking at it intently. "I can look at a rock and see its composition. I mean, I couldn't name the shit that's in it, but I can see all of the particles- what it's made of. You know?" When he spun around, Cas was gone.

"Cas? Dude? Where'd you go?" Dean said, raising his voice, slightly (very) worried.

You'll have to find me, said a voice in Dean's head, Dean spinning around and trying to find where it came from, not believing that it was in his head. It was Cas' voice, and it was the same voice he heard when he was back in Kansas.

It was easy to connect the dots now- hearing it again and listening in.

A twig broke on Dean's six and he went off in that direction, the new moon providing not an ounce of light to aid his search. He knew this was a game Cas was playing, to get something out of him, so he couldn't be too hard to find. Cas wouldn't do that.

Would he?

Dean twisted around, hearing leaves crunch and practically feeling a smile on Cas' face.

He wasn't there though, and he heard noises coming from his left now, seeming as though Cas was just bouncing around.

He couldn't see anything, though. If he could see, this would be easier, but he was practically blind under the dark, night sky.

He huffed, closing his eyes and trying to hone in on any sounds that were around him, but nothing.

When he opened his eyes, he could see him. His eyes focused and he could see him, standing there in front of him with a smile on his face and his eyes twinkling. The world around him burst into a soft light, as if he was waking and the world was coming into focus.

But Cas was there. He could see his dark brown hair, each strand, an enhanced look at his nose and his shirt and the entire world around him.

Cas smiled wider. He could see it happening, looking inside of his head and watching him realise what was going on. It was beautiful, though.

"Cas-" Dean breathed, looking around. He could see every leaf, every pebble, every little detail engraved in nature that he hadn't seen even if it were daytime.

But the way he was seeing things- it wasn't like it was daytime. He knew it was nighttime. It looked like it was nighttime. But everything was enhanced, lighter, but still, dark.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Cas asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Night vision? I don't have it, not personally, but I know people who do. They say it's wonderful."

Dean breathed out.

His breath hitched in his throat.

He couldn't believe it.

"Shit, Cas," Dean looked at him again, confused and a little bit scared. He could barely handle it all.

"I know, Dean." Cas kept a hold on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes as Dean went through it. "I know."

\---

Dean fell asleep on Cas' couch again.

Cas carried him to the guest room again.

They ate breakfast together again.

If it weren't for his ego, Dean could almost say he was doing it all on purpose.


	10. Jungle

"You're very fond of your brother, aren't you?" The man said, yet, it was Sam speaking, his eyes dilated to hell, only a small ring of his actual eye color around his pupils.

"Oh, I'm Azazel, by the way." He spoke in Sam's body. He wasn't going to leave his body until he got answers. "You can hear me from the inside. Obviously, since I can hear you fighting inside of this big head of yours." He huffed, running his fingers through Sam's hair with Sam's hands.

He laid back in the chair, closing his eyes and blocking out all of Sam's fighting to search through his brain.

It felt like spiders crawling around inside his head, scouring every cell for information until inevitably finding something useful. Sam, the real Sam, screamed, urging him out. He just pushed further into his brain and continued to block him out.

He found a phone number somewhere in there, deciding to get along with it and just call, composing himself and mustering up his best Sam impression for the upcoming answer.

Yet it only rang until it went to voicemail, and he threw the phone across the room.

"This is useless. You don't know where he is." He groaned, agitated by his untriumph. "We have to find him so we can get to- fuck!"

After a long silence, in and out of Sam's head, Azazel spoke, leaving his body and going back to his own, but put a little something in there for him to keep. "Forgive me for my lack of composure."

Sam looked up at him, his pupils still dilated and a new look on his face.

"It's fine, sir." Sam said. "What do you need me to do?"

\---

"I can turn it on and off now." Dean said over the next, next days' breakfast. "I was testing it out last night before I fell asleep. Again. It's awesome." He grinned widely, Cas smiling at his enthusiasm.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, Dean." Cas chuckled, shaking his head and kicking his foot playfully under the table while eating a piece of bacon. Dean laughed too and kicked him back in reply.

"Well," Dean picked up his plate, bringing it to the sink and washing what was left off. "I have to go shower."

Cas nodded, his eyes lifting to see the curve of his back prominent in the tight, burgundy t-shirt that he'd fallen asleep in.

He remembered tucking one of his arms around that back and carrying him into the guest room. He remembered the look on the face as he slept and the way his hair had been so devilishly tousled from trying to find a comfortable position on the couch.

He quickly looked away.

"Alright," Cas said eventually, Dean turning around and smiling at him before heading down the hall toward the bathroom.

When Cas stood up to put his dishes away, he found himself raking his eyes over the door of the bathroom, where it was cracked open only slightly, showing Dean's right side, including his shoulder, his front completely blocked by the door.

He couldn't help but stare at the hand print he had left there.

It was on accident, of course, due to all the power running through him at the time. Sometimes, things like that happen.

He watched as Dean put his hand over it, looking at it in the mirror and examining the swollen, red flesh.

Cas finally looked away when he turned, exposing his boxer-covered backside to the door, where, if Cas wasn't the good man he was, he would've seen him take them off and watch his naked body step into the shower.

He was absolutely fucked, and there was no way around it.

\---

Dean decided to go for a walk.

His hair was still damp and he decided he'd let it dry in the Los Angeles late Summer heat.

Cas trailed behind him by a few meters, whistling softly to himself. Dean was silent, taking in his surroundings and occasionally looking back at Cas, who would smile back at him each and every goddamn time.

"Do you even know where you're going, Dean?" Cas asked eventually, picking up a heart shaped leaf and smiling at it.

"Nope, not at all. But who gives a shit, right?" He shrugged, running a hand through his hair and scratching his hand-printed shoulder, wincing slightly when he accidentally went over one of the marks.

He couldn't tell you what it felt like to touch it.

It was like pure power, but not.

It was like sparks through his entire body, a fire in his veins that began where the hand print of the man behind him laid and ended in the nerves in his feet.

It wasn't that it hurt, but it was overwhelming, taking over his entire body for a split second, his synapses firing with pure something that he couldn't quite name.

Cas could only listen to what he was thinking, frowning and wishing he hadn't been stupid enough to touch him back in Hell. Especially after he'd lit the whole place on fire.

"What's that?" Dean asked suddenly, bringing Cas out of his head and allowing him to watch Dean stretch an arm outward, pointing toward a glistening object in the distance hidden under camouflage fabric with leaves strewn over it.

"Uh.." Cas narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look at it and only barely letting out a half-assed, "I don't know," before Dean went jogging toward it.

"Dean, wait, it could be dangerous-" Cas warned, huffing and puffing before running after him. He wanted this to be a nice, quiet walk in the woods. Maybe with a little innocent hand holding, pushing him up against a tree and-

okay, what the fuck, cas? you spent like, ten years learning how to control this shit for that? that's a new low, man. wow.

The voices inside his head definitely weren't used to that sort of thing [and it was all Dean Winchester's goddamn, unintentional fault].

He scratched his head and did his very best to not make any eye contact at all and instead watched his hands push off leaves from the objects top, and then finally, with a swoop and a large slap of dust in their faces, he pulled off the camouflage blanket, revealing a sleek black car, nothing like either of them had ever seen before.

"Holy fucking shit." Dean grinned widely. "What dumbass left this baby here? My god. This is the most beautiful car I've ever seen." He peeking inside the window, admiring the old vinyl seats and the large, almost too large wheel.

"We have to get this open, man. This is so cool." Dean jumped giddily and looked around for something to pry it open with, all while Cas just went up to the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it right open with a squeak from the hinges of the door.

"Oh." Dean narrowed his eyes at him and clenched his jaw. "Thanks." He hung his head and hid his blushing cheeks as he slid into the front seat, Cas worrying himself half to death that pushing a certain button in there would make the thing explode, or that Dean would put a single hand on the steering wheel and he'd be disintegrated.

Things like this don't just appear in the middle of a forest in California.

"Dean, we should definitely get going," Cas said, turning his back to the car and looking around, now thinking that someone was watching them. Though, the only consciousness he sensed were his and Dean's.

No one was around them.

"Oh, come on. You aren't gonna get in?" He asked, and Cas turned to look at him, his brow furrowing the moment he laid his eyes on his.

"No, Dean, I'm not going to get in, because that thing is rigged to explode. Or catch fire. Or shoot you into mid-air. So, instead of dying with you, I'm going to save your ass before you can say, "what the fuck."

Dean stared at him, his eyes narrowed in a sort of "play" anger. He licked his lips, not dropping his gaze until he huffed and sat back in the seat, his hands on the wheel.

Cas couldn't resist.

"Ugh. Fuck you. I guess we're both dying today." Cas shook his head and walked around the front of the car to the passenger seat, where he slid in and sat there, his hands resting on his lap awkwardly. Dean gave Cas the cheesiest, cutest grin he could possibly imagine.

"At least we can die in a cool ass car like this one." Dean said, partly to himself as he rummaged through the department on the passenger seat side of the dashboard, finding nothing but an extremely old manual on the car.

He reached up after finding nothing, pulling down the sun visor and watching keys fall to his lap.

"No fucking way." They both said in unison.

"Duuuude."

Dean giggled out a mischievous, "heh, heh, heh," and moved to put the keys in the ignition, Cas grabbing his wrist to stop him.

"Dean. You shouldn't. This could be dangerous. I mean, hell, a car this old might just tear itself apart if it tries to get turned on again. Come on." He sighed, holding his eyes on Dean's to get his point across.

Dean could tell how worried he was, so he wouldn't push it.

His hand dropped and Cas' hold on his wrist moved away before he slid out of the car.

"Come on, Dean. We should head back." Cas stretched, leaning against the old car and yawning. If he hadn't been doing so, he would've heard Dean stuff the keys in his pocket before he too stood up out of the car.

"Okay," Dean announced and shut the car door before going over to find the camouflage blanket and throwing it back over it, along with some leaves to really make sure it didn't stick out too much.

"You ready?" Cas asked, already having begun to walk back a bit.

It took a moment for Dean to nod and turn around, catching up to him with a slow jog so he could talk to him.

"It must be some kind of decoy," Cas said, "I mean, who would leave a car in that sort of condition there, in the middle of a-" he paused, thinking about what he just said. Dean furrowed his brow.

"How the hell did it get into the middle of this forest? Look around us, there's trees everywhere, with no clear path the size of that car." Cas shook his head, baffled and confused by the thought at hand.

"You're right though, Cas. It's weird." Dean clicked his tongue in thought, but eventually, his mind wandered to other things and they continued their walk in silence.

\---

Dean realised how gross his hair looked when he got inside and checked himself in the mirror that hung next to the door.

"Fuck. I look horrible." He laughed, running his hand through his hair and fixing it as Cas walked passed him.

"No, you don't, Dean." Cas said, glancing at him. "Although, I will say- you deciding to let your hair dry in the heat like that? Not a good idea. You started sweating practically the moment we got out there."

Dean laughed as he turned away from the mirror, headed toward Cas and punching him in the shoulder, making him laugh, too. "Oh?" To which Cas challenged, his eyes narrowing at him. Dean licked his lips, accepting the challenge with a strong nod and a playful little smirk.

Before Cas could get his hands on him, Dean was off, running toward Cas' bedroom and jumping on the bed, laughing aloud as Cas ran in behind him saying, "I'm gonna get you!"

When Cas jumped on top of him, both of them were laughing, though he had him pinned, his hands holding Dean's wrist beside his head on the pillows.

Slowly, their laughter died down until Dean was just staring up at him, watching as Cas' grip and eyes softened and his lips parted just barely, but enough to be noticeable.

He could've sworn Cas nearly started to lean down when he suddenly freed his wrists and rolled them over so that Dean was on top of him, straddling him. His hands went to his throat and Cas' hands tightened into the sides of Dean's shirt for support.

Their next exchange of eye contact was shorter, ending when Dean said, "I got you," and then rolled off of him, his face bright red, and not only from being tired.

"I'm... gonna go listen to music." Dean said, and then swiftly left before Cas could tell that he was semi-hard in his pants.

\---

Dean and Cas were laughing as they walked next to each other inside of the registration building. They were off for lunch, which would be before Cas would take Dean back out for their second half of training that day.

Dean saw Michael pass by, staring at them as he walked, shaking his head when he turned a corner and they disappeared from his vision.

What a creep, Dean thought to himself, earning a small smile from Cas that he hadn't noticed.

They continued to walk, Cas moving in front of Dean as he guided him through the crowded hall. "I'm starving," Cas said as he got into line for food, turning and smiling at-

"Dean?"

What the hell? He was just there, right behind him.

When he raised his head and looked around, he saw him throwing his arms around a pretty girl that wore short shorts and a crop top.

When he saw him throwing his arms around that very pretty girl in her short shorts and crop top, he saw him leaning away, only to lean in again and kiss her.

He saw him run his hand down her face, smile softly, and then wrap his arm around her waist and guide her over to the lunch line, next to Cas.

"Cas," Dean began, smiling at him. "This is Bela Talbot. She was with me in Hell. I didn't think she survived that place."

Cas stifled a smile and gave a quick nod.

"And this is Cas." Dean said, his eyes narrowed. He thought Cas would've introduced himself.

"Damn right I survived it. I ran, Dean. Thought you were behind me, too, but I guess not. I didn't know what was going on, so I just ran and got the hell outta dodge as fast as I could." Bela explained herself, "and I wound up here when some dude approached me and said that I could "seek refuge" here or whatever the fuck."

Cas didn't like the way she talked.

He didn't like the way she held herself- like she was better than him, better than Dean.

He especially didn't like the way her arm was around Dean's back, gripping onto his side the way Cas had done so many times carrying him into the guest bed.

Dean would've seen the look on his face if not for the line moving and him picking up a tray, turned toward one of the ladies handing out food.

"Bela.." Dean breathed out, his eyes softening. "I'm so sorry. This dipshit here had me in the truck to here before I could even say anything."

Was he blaming him for saving him? Was he saying that he would've rather gone with her than with him?

He could practically hear the angry sneer from Bela.

It was as if she was angry at him for saving his life.

"Anyways," Dean said, breaking the tension between him and Bela. Not so much with Cas. He still hadn't heard a word from him and he didn't understand why, but he wouldn't question it.

Cas was quiet sometimes as it is.

They got their food and sat down, Cas sitting across from them.

He heard Dean's thoughts again.

He heard his brain make the moves to kick Bela's foot under the table.

He heard him decide to take her hand and felt the nerves going off in his head when she wrapped her arm around his lower back.

Inside, he was fuming. Outside, he was eating calmly. After all, he had been learning to control his thoughts and feelings and what he showed on the outside his whole life. It wasn't too hard to do by then.

"Hey, you know, maybe we can all go to the field and train together. That'd be awesome, right?" Dean suggested with a big grin, looking up at Cas for confirmation.

Cas glared at Bela for a moment. She caught his eyes and glared back, her eyes narrowed in confusion. She was utterly confused as to why he gave her that sort of look, but she blew it off, assuming Cas was just some douche that didn't know how to properly look at a pretty girl.

"I don't think that would be appropriate, Dean." Cas said, shaking his head and turning toward his food.

"Not appropriate?" Dean questioned, furrowing his brow. "Why not?"

"Because, Dean--" he huffed, setting his silverware down, giving Dean a stare that had some emotion in it that Dean couldn't place. Anger? Sadness? Jealously? Tiredness? "It's not my place to train her. She should have a designated trainer, like I am yours."

"Well, yeah, but dude- we could at least-"

"No, Dean!" Cas said, raising his voice only slightly.

He wasn't supposed to slip up like that. He wasn't supposed to yell or raise his voice or show his emotion like that and it surprised himself.

Dean searched his eyes for something that he could place, but Cas moved them downward before he could get anything.

"Excuse me," Cas said, adjusting his posture and standing up.

Seemingly on cue, there was a call from the kitchen for Cas to get back there. Cas scurries away, feeling Dean's hard stare on the back of his head as he fled to the kitchen.

He was met by his older brother, Gabriel, who was wearing a hairnet on his head and confused look on his face.

"The Hell was that, Cas?" He asked, his eyes worried. There were a few things that came naturally to siblings who were Freaks. Sensing each others emotions was one of them, in the case of Castiel and Gabriel.

Except Gabriel hadn't felt Cas like that in, well...ever.

He knew how Cas was with emotions and the way he showed himself to other people. That was not something that Cas was found doing very often. Or at all.

"It's nothing, Gabriel." Cas said and sighed, leaning against a pillar to let a lady with a tray of food walk by. "I just...overreacted to something a little bit."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him. You're full of shit, Cas.

"No, I'm not! Jesus, Gabriel, I don't need you watching over me, anyways. I simply got a little too angry at something. It's nothing you should be worried about."

"Nothing I should be worried about? You've never done that, Cas. I know how you are and you don't do that." Gabriel turned to one of the extra food trays, grabbing a small bunch of grapes and popping one in his mouth.

Castiel huffed and crossed his arms. Gabriel's right, he said with a block on his mind. After all, they were two of five people in the entire place that could read minds. As they knew of, at least.

"I'm just frustrated." Cas confessed.

"Why?" Gabriel ate another grape.

"Because he's just-" Cas stopped himself. Well, it was more like Gabriel stopped him.

"He?" Gabriel's eyebrow rose. "You have a crush on someone, Cassie?" He grinned, teasing his little brother, Cas sneering. Gabriel's smile faded when he saw that he was being serious.

"Sorry." Gabriel said, and Cas rolled his eyes.

"You know what, I'm not- I'm not talking to you about this. You definitely aren't the person here to talk about secrets with." He pushed himself off of the pillar, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubbed his temples.

His emotions got in the way of his block on other peoples' thoughts, and they were all in his head again. Chatter, like a thousand radio stations on at once. It was chaotic and overwhelming.

"Cas, come on, man, I won't tell anyone. I mean, sometimes it's better to talk-"

Cas was out of the kitchen before he could finish his sentence. He saw Dean catch his gaze from across the mess hall and saw him wave him over, but he acted like he hadn't seen it and just kept walking.

He could nearly feel Bela's possessive touch on Dean's side.

He could nearly feel Dean's lips tingling from his recent kiss with Bela.

Cas didn't want to have anything to do with it.

\---

They ended up not training later that day. 

Bela took Dean to where she was staying, which was a small room in a separate housing building. Dean didn't question how she got it, and that was probably because they spent the rest of the day in bed.

And..on the kitchen table; the desk in the corner of the room; the floor in front of the bed.

Cas went to sleep in his bed in an empty penthouse with no one sleeping on his couch to carry into the guest room again. It was nearly foreign to him now not to stay awake to do so.

This place is so quiet, he thought to himself in his bed. 

He wasn't used to not hearing Dean's consciousness or unconsciousness in the other room.

This place is too lonely without Dean.

He sighed.

He rolled over.

He fell asleep.

And he dreamt of Dean.


	11. Desire

"Come on, Dean. Let's go have some fun. Train a little bit. Show me your moves," Bela said, and Dean sighed. He didn't want to.

"I...I'm really tired, Bela. I mean, we just fucked about ten times," Dean said with a huff and sat up, Bela pulled up the comforter over her naked top so it wouldn't fall off of her as he pulled it with him.

"Okay. Then we can do it later. Or tomorrow," Bela smiled at him and reached for his arm, wanting him back down in the bed with her.

It seemed like Cas' personal rules about his powers were getting to him because now, coming down to it, he didn't want to share them with anyone else. He didn't feel like wasting his energy on someone who wouldn't appreciate it. Someone who wouldn't appreciate it the way Cas would.

"Maybe," was Dean's reply, accompanied with a shrug to get her hand off of his shoulder.

"I think that for now...for now I'm gonna take a walk." He nodded to himself, Bela feeling the bed rise when he stood up and grabbed his clothes.

He got dressed with his back turned to her, but he could still feel her eyes on his ass, even when he had his pants on.

"Hey," Bela began before Dean put his shirt on. "What's the mark on your shoulder? You didn't have that before the camp got torched." Shit. "Oh. The- yeah. It's nothing, really. Just- when Cas uh, rescued, me, I guess, he kind of, seared his handprint onto my shoulder," Dean stammered, trying his best to explain it without sounding like an idiot.

"That's rude." Bela said, furrowing her brow. "He did it on purpose?"

"Well- it's- no. It's complicated." He frowned and shook his head. Clearly, she didn't want to understand, and he wasn't in the mood to make her do so. Instead of saying anything else, he continued to put his shirt on and fix his hair before walking out the door.

\---

He couldn't remember how long he'd been walking.

Or what he'd last been thinking about.

All he could tell was that the car Cas and him found the other day was sitting in front of him and he had the keys to the ignition in his hand.

If he were completely sane, he wouldn't have gotten into the car.

If he were completely sane, he definitely wouldn't have reached up and pressed the tip of the car key to the ignition.

Fortunately, he wasn't completely sane.

The car rumbled to life, letting out a roar as he revved the engine.

(If he were sane, he probably wouldn't have heard Cas' voice in his head saying, Dean, what the Hell, you know this is dangerous. Though, Cas wasn't there, and he couldn't do a damned thing to prevent what Dean was doing right then.)

\---

Cas awoke with a groan in his bed.

Empty bed, empty room, empty house.

He sat up, and turned, planting his feet into the carpet, curling his toes as he thought.

If Dean were here, he would've been making him breakfast an hour ago.

If Dean were here.

He could've sworn he felt Dean's consciousness in his other room.

It was just his fucked up, over complicated brain telling him things that weren't there. He was stupid for believing it for the half second that it crossed his mind.

When he sat down with his bowl of fruit at the table, he looked across and saw nothing.

He thought about how Dean's consciousness felt as he picked at a strawberry slice in his bowl.

He would look at him and it felt like the warmth of the Summer sun rising over him. He'd feel a soft fire in the winter, the smell of grass after it stormed, the safety of warm blankets in the winter. Hot chocolate and marshmallows. Waves rolling onto a morning beach, the ocean breeze.

Beauty.

He sighed and turned his head, watching the sun rise over the waking city.

\---

Dean heard a song on the radio begin to play.

No, not the radio. There was a cassette in the cassette player. He didn't know how he knew, but he just had a feeling of familiarity.

I was caught in the middle of a railroad track, the man in the song sang, I looked round and I knew there was no turning back.

He reached over and turned it up all the way. Birds in the trees flew off as the song blared through the forest.

Thunderstruck!

Dean found himself bobbing his head and tapping his knee, eventually getting so into it that he began to play the air-drums to it, even if he didn't know the parts.

He sat in the car all the way through 17 songs before the car abruptly turned off.

He assumed it was out of gas, or the battery died.

He sighed and rubbed his face, turned to look at the passenger seat of the car, half expecting Cas to be sitting there with a smile on his face.

But he was only half expecting it, and the other half was true. He wasn't there.

Wasn't so dangerous after all. Was it, Cas? Dean thought to himself. And to Cas. The fuck that could probably hear his thoughts as it is.

He stepped out of the car and walked over to the trunk, checking to see if there were any containers of gas by any chance.

Nope.

Nothing.

He shut the trunk and sighed.

He went to the front of the car, lifting the hood up and looking at it.

While he looked, someone in the trees above watched him unsuccessfully try to figure out what had happened. They were gone before Dean looked up to the trees, having felt someone staring.

His lips pursed and he narrowed his eyes the slightest bit. He could've sworn he felt eyes staring on the back of his head. He shrugged it off, though, and closed the hood, locked the car, and threw the camouflage cover back over it.

\---

"Come on, Sammy!" Azazel shouted, watching him throw himself at and punch one of Azazel's many minions. He knocked her out, his entire body weight (including all of that damned muscle) had been put together into one, grand punch across her ugly face.

Sam growled, turning and reaching for the next attacker's neck and gripping it tightly, lifting her up effortlessly and staring at her as she rose into the air.

"Good!" Azazel said from the sidelines, watching in awe, a grin on his face.

Sam threw her across the room without another thought, his chest heaving as he settled and clenched his fists next to his sides.

"That was good, Samantha." Azazel said, walking over to him with a cautious step. Sam furrowed his brows at the name. "You're a fantastic fighter."

"Thank you, sir," He said in reply as he caught his breath.

Around them lay six unconscious bodies, all from Sam's merciless beatings. Azazel could've been wrong, but one of them may have actually been dead.

"Go get yourself a drink of water before you come back. We have more training to do, still." He instructed, watching the boy walk off before turning to his assistant, who had suddenly appeared in a blur of dark black smoke.

"He's almost ready, Meg. Another...hm, month, and he should be perfect." Azazel smiled proudly, as if he were fond of the monster he was creating.

"Sounds good, sir." She grinned and sauntered off, disappearing again in another cloud of black smoke as Sam entered the room.

"Say, Samantha; how would you like to see your brother?" Azazel inquired with a tilt of his head, smirking smugly. Sam's eyes lit up. For a half of a second, Sam went back to being Sam. Or, at least, a fragment of what he used to be.

Dean. Brother. Family.

"Sam?"

Azazel.

"Yes. Of course, sir." Sam nodded, snapping out of it quickly and looking up at him with his empty eyes.

"Okay. Come along, then, and we can start you on your way to being able to see your brother."

He lightly put his hand on the middle of his back and guided him to another room, where he instructed him to lay on a chair that you'd see in a dentist's office - with a place for his head and everything - and just be still.

"Bite down on this." Azazel said. If Sam weren't under the mind control, he would've questioned it.

Instead, he bit down on the small bar Azazel placed in his mouth and watched him hover two fingers over each side of his head.

"Just remember, Sam," he began, smiling at him, "this is for your brother. For Dean."

He pressed his fingers to his temples and watched him convulse, electric shocks running through his entire body, all the way down to his toes.

\---

Dean returned to Bela later that afternoon.

She had sat up when Dean walked in, her arms crossed over her now-covered chest.

"Where were you?" She asked angrily.

"Taking a walk. Duh. I told you, babe," he said, grabbing a bottle of water out of her fridge and drinking a fourth of the bottle.

"Your walk took four hours?" She complained, staring at him with anger in her eyes.

"Yes, Bela. It took four hours. I walked for a really long time. I had to clear my head, okay? Jesus." He took off his shirt, ridding himself of the sweat-ridden fabric with a small sigh.

"Sure. Of course you were only walking."

"What? What else do you think I was doing?"

"I don't know- hm, talking to that Cas guy?"

"And that's a crime?! What the Hell, Bela? The guy's my trainer for fuck's sake, I have to talk to him everyday!" Dean retorted with an angry twist of his wrist as he spun the cap of his water bottle shut.

"Well— I don't like him." She acted as if that meant he'd completely stop talking to him.

"Sucks for you, babe, 'cause—"

"Sucks for me? I was there for you in Hell when nobody else was!" She watched him lick his lips and prepare to say something, but she stopped him when she continued her own statements.

"You find out that I'm alive and you spend the whole morning with him the first day I'm officially here?"

"I wasn't even— I wasn't with him! I was walking! Jesus, I can't. I can't with you right now, Bela."

He quickly put his shirt back on and walked out of the door, fuming.

He heard her scream to get back in there, but he wouldn't do it.

He wasn't having any of that. He didn't care about her right now. He'd go back to her, yes, but right then, he couldn't care less.

When he finally decided to go back inside, he opened the door to get a hard slap across the cheek from Bela and then an push against the door as she began to ravage him.

He didn't want to have sex.

He wasn't in the mood.

He was already gross from the night before and from sweating earlier that day and he was not in the right head-space and he just did not want to have sex.

But he did anyways.

She straddled him on the bed and took him for herself yet again.

When they finished, Dean rolled over away from her and rubbed his face as he thought about the way he felt.

He didn't feel good.

He didn't have his usual after-sex high, or his dopey smile on his face.

Instead, he was thinking why he had neither, replaced with a frown and the ball of shame that he felt like.

He wished he could've said no when Bela asked if he wanted a second round.

\---

"Who's she?" Michael asked Cas from where they sat at one of the lunch tables, away from Dean (a choice made by Cas).

"Oh? The brunette in slutty clothes? Bela Talbot. New girl." He said, sighing and stabbing his fork into his salad and mashing the leaves into his mouth.

"She seems like a bitch." Michael said matter of fact-ly, looking over at their sister Hannah for an opinion.

"Oh. Me? Um..I dunno. She seems...okay. Kinda selfish and bratty, but okay. I don't know— I just don't know her well enough. Sorry." She shrugged, glancing down at her vegetarian sandwich.

"She's assuredly a grade A, class A, bitch." Cas said— no, stated, leaning back in his seat.

He could feel how uncomfortable Dean was around her. It wasn't hard to tell, anyways. You could take a single look at him and you'd be able to see that they weren't meant to be together.

He could feel the way he wanted to get up and move. To talk to someone else or beckon Cas over.

Instead, he stayed seated and absently listened to Bela talk calmly while he nodded his head and took a bite of his grilled cheese.

When Cas passed his table on the way to get a new fork (he broke his old one stabbing it too hard into his salad), he could practically smell the sex on Dean's clothes. With a hint of pine and lavender.

He could feel the nerves continuing to fire. Well— the aftermath nerves. The ones you get after you've had sex. Either sticky and gross or blissful and happy. Dean was the first, and it was blatantly obvious to someone with the powers Cas had.

He nearly ran into a wall during his intense focus inside of Dean's head. He knew he shouldn't be listening so intently, but he couldn't resist himself. Not with Bela sliding her hand into the inner part of Dean's thighs and her lips grazing lightly against Dean's ear as she whispered, "do you want to? In the bathroom, maybe?"

Dean was uncertain.

Cas was stopped in his tracks.

"Bela," he said, "I'm eating. Not now." He sounded disheartened. He followed it with a joking, "a man's gotta eat," to make up for it.

He strode back with a fork in his hand that rose to 200° in his anger. He was, quite literally, fuming.

Dean could see it on his face when he passed them, but he didn't know what for.

Castiel caught his eyes, his lips parting and his hand cooling down as they held their eye contact for a good five seconds.

He could nearly see it in his eyes that he wasn't a very happy man.

He could definitely see it in his eyes that he wasn't as happy with Bela as he was with him just two days previous.

Dean looked away when Bela slapped his shoulder lightly and focused him back in on what she was saying.

"Who were you looking at? A girl?" Bela questioned with an angry raise of a brow.

"No. What? Of course not," Dean shook his head, looking down at his food. He lost his appetite but he took another small bite.

Bela continued to talk her mouth off until Dean decided it was time for him to go train.

Which meant approaching Cas.

Cas, who Dean caught "coincidentally" as they both put their trays away, tried his best to quickly head back to his seat before any continuation of their encounter. He failed at his attempt and was grabbed by the wrist by Dean, getting pulled into one of the hallways slightly outside of the mess hall.

"Training today?" Dean asked. He was already feeling weird from not training. For him, it was like being used to exercising everyday and then suddenly skipping a day and getting his whole routine fucked up.

"I have...a meeting." Cas said. A lie.

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"No, you don't," he took a small step closer, glancing from side to side to see if anyone was around. Their faces couldn't have had more than three inches apart.

"Come on, Cas. Bela's killing me, here. All she wants to do is have sex and man— I'm fuckin' tired of it," he was practically begging, but Dean Winchester did not beg.

Cas chewed on his lip, looking down at Dean with a small sigh.

"Okay. Fine. When can you go?"

"Now is fine." Dean chuckled a bit and smiled widely. Cas shrugged and walked out with him.

Dean saw Bela turn her head and glare, practically gawking at the sight. She nearly stood up and followed them, but she was too stuck in awe to do so.

And later, they were in the field they routinely went to, Dean getting himself ready with his usual set of stretches while Cas watched him.

He was definitely happy to be training with Dean again.

"Okay," he said, five minutes later, "let's um.. let's start with some simple exercises to warm up? Just... make three pebbles float at once?" Cas instructed, Dean following his orders.

Cas stood behind him, watching as he did as he was told and began to spin the rocks in a circle around each other.

Dean was barely thinking, and Cas could tell.

Cas put one hand on Dean's stomach and lower back, straightening his posture and leaning in, close to his ear. "You have to keep your core centered or else you'll lose your hold on them." He said, Dean breathing in deeply through his nose.

"Stay focused, Dean, and you'll be able to do so much more."

With that proposition, Dean found himself lifting far larger rocks into the air and watched them connect, creating one floating boulder in the air.

Cas smiled, not moving his hands. It seemed it was helping him, anyways.

Dean began to breathe heavier, his eyes narrowing at the large boulder as more rocks gathered and made it grow.

"Come on, Dean. You've got this." Cas said, almost right into his ear.

"Cas—" Dean breathed, his voice shaky.

Cas could feel him straining to keep it up and to keep it growing. He could feel every muscle in his body focus on the one task at hand.

He wanted to lay him down and massage it out of him.

He tightened his hands into his shirt.

The grass beneath their feet began to grow and the boulder began moving, swaying in a small circle five feet off the ground.

He wanted to kiss his tightened biceps and suck hickeys into his straining neck.

"Fuck—" Dean cursed, angry at himself. He was losing his focus and Cas could tell.

"Dean," he Cas said, "you can do this. Just focus."

The rock suddenly exploded into thousands of fragments, Dean and Cas ducking into the now overgrown grass as they flew out everywhere.

"Fuck!" Dean exclaimed, standing back up and wiping himself off. "I'm horrible."

"No, Dean, you're not. That was actually really, really good." Cas said, smiling at him. "It took me a long time, too," he took a few steps back from him and ran a hand through his hair.

When his hand reappeared in front of his face, there was a flame above Cas' finger, seemingly coming out of his nail.

"I used to never be able to do this, but now," he suddenly made every single finger have a flame at the end of it, "I can do this."

He smiled at Dean's awestruck face.

"Cas— dude, that's fucking awesome!" He laughed, Cas clapping once and made a ball of fire appear between his hands when they moved.

"No-fucking-way," Dean shook his head, taking a step closer. Cas looked at him, telling him silently, "no closer." He didn't want to hurt him the way he did with the print on his shoulder.

"I could do a lot," Cas said. "I burned down Hell with this. I've burned down trees, buildings..." Humans. "And you'll be able to do amazing things, too. But it's all about controlling it, Dean."

He snapped and the fire went away.

"It's okay that you can't do the big things. And that's because you can control it. It's hard to at first, but you had it almost instantly. And you know that fire is extremely dangerous if you can't control it. But I can. We can."

He paused, playing with a single flame from his first finger, watching it as if there were something hidden inside that Dean couldn't see.

"So don't beat yourself up for it. Because being able to control it is a lot more important that being able to do the big things."

The flame disappeared and Cas' eyes lifted up to meet Dean's.

"Let's continue, though, shall we?" Cas smiled and stepped toward him, punching him in the stomach. Hard.

Dean laughed and hunched over, smiling whenever he began the next move.

Cas wanted to push him into the sheets the way he pushed him into the ground.

\---

"Dean?!" Bela shouted in anger when he walked through her apartment door. "What the Hell was that?! Ditching me for him?"

Dean stood there, his jaw clenched. He was taught not to talk back to his father, so he didn't bother arguing with her.

No matter how much he wanted to open his mouth and scream, he wouldn't say a word.

"I can't believe you right now. I just— Jesus, Dean!" She went up to him, her eyes narrowed and staring straight into his soul.

"You're a disappointment." She said, and then slapped him across the face and brought him to bed.

\---  
Four days later.

12:08 a.m.

Cas sat upright in bed.

Dean.

He was still there, asleep on his couch like old times.

He didn't know why he hadn't gone back to Bela's like he usually did. Usually, he was gone as soon as possible.

Cas rubbed his eyes.

He yawned.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

And he stood, walking out of his room and into the living room, finding him lying on the couch with a blanket thrown over him and his head uncomfortably placed on the armrest.

"Dean..." he whispered, shaking his head slightly and picking him up. He wrapped one arm under his back and curled his hand in his shirt.

His other arm went under his neck, making sure he was comfortable and supported before starting off toward the bedroom.

Cas.

Dean's eyes nearly blinked open, but once he realised what Cas was doing, he kept them closed, not moving in his arms.

Dean was awake and Cas knew he was, and he was extremely confused as to why he wasn't freaking out and leaving. He had a girlfriend. Maybe not the best, but a girlfriend nonetheless.

"I know you're awake," he said quietly as he laid him down in bed, watching Dean's eyes flutter open in the dark.

Beauty.

"Cas," Dean whispered, his voice hoarse.

He gripped onto his arm when Cas started to turn away, pulling him back.

And then slowly, Dean brought him downward, his hand latching onto the back of his neck once he was close enough and breaking the distance between their mouths in a soft kiss on the lips.

Cas froze.

Cas kissed back.

Dean could've sworn there were fireworks.

Cas pulled away hesitantly, looking back into those forest-green eyes and feeling every good thing he's ever wanted to feel.

But he had to go.

To his own bed, to act like this never happened.

But he couldn't, because Dean wasn't moving his grip on his hand and he was breathing out the most heartbroken, "please stay," that had him climbing into the guest bed with him and pulling him close.

Dean pressed his forehead to his unclothed chest, his hand moving to his shoulder and his mind focusing on his heartbeat, quiet and barely there, but the only thing he wanted to hear.

Cas' nose went to Dean's hair and Dean fell asleep, Cas staying awake to listen to his breathing.

He questioned everything.

But for the time being, that was in the back of his mind.

In the front was sun-kissed skin and the quiet after a storm.


End file.
